Only 30 Shades of Gray
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Of Minho & Newt series. Based on 30 Day Relationship Challenge. 30 days in the life of our favorite married couple.
1. Chapter 1

-ONLY 30 SHADES OF GRAY-

-This little fanfic is based off a 30-day relationship challenge I found on Pinterest. Basically, it's thirty different, fluffy stories about Minho and Newt being married and doing married-couple things. I hope you like it, cuz this is gonna be one of my longest stories on here. Enjoy, and let me know what you liked about this first chapter! :)-

-DAY 1: Sign up for a class together or learn something new together-

They did not sign up for a class together, unfortunately. However, they did learn something new. Or, well, Newt learned something new and rather amusing about Minho.

-X-X-X-

It was Wednesday, and it was raining, and Newt was bored.

There was absolutely NOTHING TO DO. Belle was back in her room, having gotten home from school two hours ago. She'd burst through the door with damp, straggly hair and annoyance in her green eyes. Then she'd complained for thirty minutes straight about the horrid weather and how her favorite navy dress had been ruined. She was very young, but she was still a girl. Newt had spent a painstaking amount of time combing the knots out of her autumn-red hair, before pulling it into a ponytail for her. Now she'd run off to her room, to play with her dolls, she'd said.

Newt didn't mind being alone without her for now. He was tired and there wasn't anything better to do. He worked from home now, thanks to the Flare that prevented him from driving very much; he sent pictures up to Sonya at Framed and she sent him the money when one was sold. It was a nice system and now Newt could help out around the house again. But he didn't feel like doing any of that now. All he could do was wait.

Waiting for Minho to come home sucked. Especially when it was raining so hard outside, that everything was darkened by stormclouds. Newt shifted to a better position on the couch, cross-legged while he watched a movie. It was some romantic thing about French people or whatever. He was barely seeing it. He wore shorts, but the chill from outside made him put on one of Minho's oversized, charcoal-gray hoodies. Every once in a while, Newt would nuzzle into the neckline and breathe in the smell of mocha and Minho's cologne. It was addicting.

"Ugghh, this movie is stupid," he muttered to himself. Snatching the remote off the coffee table, he started clicking through the channels.

Suddenly, the sound of a lock unlatching made him jump; someone was at the front door. Newt's immediate, irrational thought was Kyle. Cursing his mind for such a thing, he rubbed at the scar on his wrist. He refused to ever touch the uglier one on his neck. Post-traumatic stress, maybe. He hated it.

It was, of course, Minho at the door, because as soon as he stepped in Coal threw herself at him. "Hey, I'm—Whoa!"

Newt chuckled as there was a thump, followed by a loud meow of greeting. That cat was crazy about Minho. "You all right?" he called.

"I'm fine!" came the sarcastic answer. "You won't believe how—Dammit, Coal, calm down!—how ugly is it outside!" There was another, oddly musical thud and Minho swore; he'd probably dropped his guitar case. "Is Coal in heat or something?!"

Newt wrinkled his nose. "Um, I don't think so," he replied uneasily. "...why?"

"I think she thinks my shoe is a cat." A louder meow came then and Minho muttered something unintelligible. Newt smiled to himself. Poor Minho. Everybody was in love with him today.

"Anyway," Minho sighed, the sound of him kicking his shoes off echoing in the hall, "was your day as boring as mine?"

"Pretty much." Newt looked up as Minho came around the couch then and instantly snorted in laughter. "Your hair is beautiful," he remarked sarcastically.

Minho's hand went straight up to his head. "Seriously?" His black hair had lost some of its spike and was damp from the rain. "Oh great, I'm hideous." Uncaringly, he raked his hands through it, thoroughly tousling it into an adorable mess.

"Yeah, I can't believe I'm married to you," Newt joked.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious."

"Thanks."

"Smug, much?" Tossing himself down onto the couch next to Newt, Minho stretched out his legs beneath the table and his arms above his head. The action showed off the arch of his body beautifully in his jeans and a cute, black-and-white striped shirt. Newt bit his lip and tried not to stare.

"So why was your day boring?" Newt asked.

"Eh, nothing really happened. A little kid tried to play guitar. That was interesting." Minho rested his hand automatically on Newt's knee, fingers stroking absently.

"Why? Was he bad at it?"

"He was five."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Newt shrugged. "At least you know you have a future customer then," he remarked mildly.

Minho hummed in agreement, dark eyes on the TV screen. It was hard to concentrate, really. He was still rubbing Newt's knee and Newt was getting a little fuzzy-minded. They sat quietly for a few minutes. The buzz of the TV was the only sound, apart from the pounding rain on the roof. But silence never lasted long with Minho around. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked suddenly.

Newt blinked over at him, uneasy when he saw the expression on Minho's face. "Forgetting what?"

Minho let his eyes fall bashfully, but there was nothing bashful about that wicked smirk. "You always kiss me when I come home," he pointed out lightly.

Newt rolled his eyes. "Oh, really? Who says I have to do it everyday?"

"I do," Minho replied, suggestively sneaking his hand up Newt's thigh.

Squeaking, Newt batted his hand away. "Fine, you shuck-face, c'mere." He clasped the back of Minho's neck and pulled him in. Minho scooted across the couch to get closer and they kissed for only a moment; Newt cut it off short, trying to hide how even a second of kissing Minho made him breathless. "Well?" he asked, eyebrows raised in question.

Minho ran a thumb over his lower lip, as though remembering the taste of Newt's kiss. "I think you can do better."

"Whatever," Newt scoffed, looking away. "You're not getting another." His voice faltered when Minho cupped his cheek.

"Angel," Minho murmured mischievously, "you know you can't say no to me." Drawing Newt in, he pressed their mouths together again.

Newt closed his eyes, and let this kiss last much longer. Tipping his head, Minho easily parted Newt's lips. His tongue found Newt's and prompted a tiny mewl from the blonde. Newt could feel Minho's satisfied smile curving against his mouth. "Arrogant," he growled into Minho's mouth, biting his bottom lip.

"But you like it," Minho murmured, sighing blissfully as Newt carded his fingers through Minho's hair.

He is an arrogant shank, isn't he? Newt thought. Well, two could play that game. Without breaking the kiss, he uncrossed his legs and crawled across the couch. Minho exhaled roughly as Newt climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips. Locking his hands in Minho's hair, Newt kissed him like he was going to war. He pressed their bodies together and tugged just enough at Minho's hair to make him grinned as hands clung desperately around his waist.

"Who's arrogant now?" Minho asked huskily, running his nose down along Newt's.

"It's about time you let someone else on top," Newt replied suggestively.

"Careful." Minho hooked his fingers in Newt's hoodie pocket to tug him closer. "Belle's home and she's never heard you beg for me before..."

"Ugh, you really are full of yourself." Newt splayed his fingers at the smooth skin of Minho's neck, thumbs on his jawline. Tilting Minho's head up, Newt kissed him again, deeper. His tongue traced the line of Minho's lips teasingly and Minho's fingers knotted in his hoodie. Newt's body buzzed with every touch. Being married had gotten him used to this, to having Minho whenever he wanted. He was incredibly lucky. When Minho started rubbing Newt's back through his hoodie, Newt's hand dropped away from his face and landed accidentally on Minho's ribs. That was when it happened.

Minho jerked and shoved Newt's hand away, giggling.

Newt stared. Minho NEVER giggled. Ever. He was so surprised, he just gaped at Minho like a moron. "Minho, did you just—?"

"No," Minho answered too-quickly, the faintest blush appearing in his face.

Newt realized what had happened and a wide, knowing grin spread over his face. "Oh my god, no way." He sat back on Minho's lap, shaking his head. "You're ticklish."

"Am not," Minho denied.

"You totally are! How come I never knew before?"

"I am not!"

"Min, c'mon, I can tell."

"I was just...Um..."

Newt laughed gleefully. "You're actually ticklish!" he crowed, and Minho growled at him. Then Newt looked him over and a dark smirk twisted his lips. "Where else are you ticklish?"

Minho's eyes widened. "Don't you dare," he said, and tried to get out from under Newt.

Newt pushed Minho back down by the shoulders and then immediately dug his fingers into Minho's ribs. Minho let out a burst of uncontrolled laughter, shoving uselessly at Newt's hands. Grinning broadly, Newt didn't relent; Minho squirmed under him, laughing himself breathless. "Stop! Agh, Newt!"

"No way!" This was revenge for every time Minho had ever tickled Newt. Minho's ribs were certainly ticklish, but Newt wanted to find the other ticklish places on him. Snickering himself, he switched his hands to the sides of Minho's neck. He probed with his fingertips and Minho snorted, shoulders shooting up to try and block it out. "Newt! Quit it!"

"This is awesome!" Newt cheered. When Minho finally managed to grab Newt's wrists away from his neck, Newt just sent them somewhere else. Deviously, he slipped his hands under Minho's shirt. Of course, Minho's stomach wasn't ticklish because well, he had toned muscle there (not that Newt didn't enjoy touching it for the moment). But as soon as Newt stuck his fingers in Minho's sides, Minho's hips lifted off the couch in protest.

"Newt!" Minho gasped out between chortles. "Please!" Newt attacked his sides again and Minho giggled like a girl. He tried twisting away from Newt, but but the blonde was still pinning him to the couch. Newt's fingers climbed up Minho's sides to his ribs again and back down. He was enjoying himself way too much as Minho struggled and laughed beneath him. He'd never seen Minho acting so childlike and carefree, and he'd certainly never known that Minho was so ticklish.

"Oh my God, I'm begging you!" Minho tried to get up and Newt stopped him again. "Newt!"

"Okay, okay," Newt sniggered and finally pulled his hands from Minho's shirt. "That's revenge for tickling me, you shank." He playfully punched Minho in the shoulder.

"Sorry..." Minho's chest rose and fell as he got his breath back, rubbing his sides. Wincing, he offered Newt an apologetic smile. "Damn, I didn't know it hurt so bad afterward."

"Jerk."

"You're the jerk; you just freaking attacked me."

"You deserved it."

"Ugh."

Newt bent down and placed a sweet kiss on Minho's nose. "Guess I am the arrogant one now," he teased.

Minho huffed. "Whatever."

He had to make a run for it before Newt decided to take a little more revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

-DAY 2: Get it on in a place you've never done it before, even if it's just another room in the house-

-*sigh* I enjoyed this way too much. All I can really think to say is, Minewt fans, you're welcome for the fluff (and okay, the smut :P). Thank you for the reviews; jeez they all came so fast and I'm incredibly grateful. Let me know what you liked, favorite part, etc. I love hearing from you and it makes my day to write for such wonderful readers. :)-

It was a good thing that Belle was staying over at Newt's parents' that night.

-X-X-X-

Minho was being seduced.

There was no other word for it. Why else would Newt be getting all up in Minho's personal space every two seconds or wearing his tightest pair of jeans? Why else would he be finding excuses to touch Minho or flash him little, teasing smirks? He'd been doing it for the past twenty minutes, as they worked in the kitchen to put away dishes after dinner. It was a Friday, and Belle was spending the night over at Newt's parents' house. It was a great way for her to have fun during the weekend with her grandparents and for Minho and Newt to have the house to themselves.

Now, seeing Newt flirting like he was, Minho was glad that he had the night to himself with his beautiful husband.

"What're you doing?" he asked in amusement, as Newt reached around him to snag a glass. The sink was full of dishes and soapy water, and suds were crawling up Minho's arms as he made some sort of attempt at cleaning.

"Helping you, what do you think?" Newt leaned over to set the glass over on the rack by the others, where they could dry. His chest brushed Minho's back as he did.

Minho shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. "I'm thinking about how bad I wanna have my way with you later," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Rising up on tiptoe, Newt rested his chin on Minho's shoulder.

His breath caressed Minho's ear and Minho shivered. "Nothing," he replied, going back to scrubbing a plate.

"Mm-hm," Newt hummed disbelievingly. But he didn't question anymore. "What d'you wanna do tonight?"

As he stepped back, his ran his palms along Minho's sides, retreating only after he'd reached Minho's hips. You, Minho thought. He swallowed that answer, wanting to keep his self-control for a little while longer. "I dunno. What did you have in mind?"

"Movie?"

"Which one?"

"Umm..."

"Not Downton Abbey again."

"Ugh, okay. My second favorite then."

"I know you only like Titanic because of Leonardo DiCaprio."

Newt gave a burst of bright laughter. "You like him, too," he teased, hooking a finger playfully in Minho's back pocket.

Minho grinned and reached back to skim his fingers down along Newt's arm to his wrist. Newt squeaked as the soap suds coated his skin. "Nah, I have my own stunning, blonde artist at home," Minho joked.

"Ew," Newt complained, wiping the soap off on Minho's black tee. "You're lucky you compliment me a lot, or I'd have left you by now."

"You'd never leave me," Minho sniffed.

"And why is that?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, Minho smiled knowingly. "You love me."

Newt just rolled his eyes. "Not that much."

"Aw, come on." Minho pulled the plug on the drain and watched the water spin away. "Admit it."

"Never," Newt answered stubbornly.

"You looooooove me."

"Minho."

"You could never LIVE without me."

"Are you done yet?"

"You looooooove me THIS MUCH." At that part, Minho turned around and spread his arms as wide as they could go. A wide smirk pulled at his mouth as he saw Newt's glimmering sapphire eyes on him.

"I thought we were gonna watch a movie," Newt said pointedly. Leaning back against the counter, he looked at Minho with gilded eyelashes drooping. Wearing a snug, white tee with a black cross design on the front, he looked positively edible.

Minho shrugged. "That's what I thought too," he replied lightly, "until you started flirting with me."

A cute blush rose in Newt's cheeks. "I wasn't flirting with you," he protested.

"Newt." Minho fixed his husband with a withering look. "I think I can tell when someone's flirting with me. I'm Minho, remember?"

"And humble too," Newt deadpanned. "I was NOT flirting. I was just...noticing you."

"That makes no sense."

"Yes, it does. There's just sometimes when I think, I dunno..." Newt paused to think, picking at the edge of the counter with his fingernail. "I think about how I'm lucky to have you, and how you look when you wake up with your hair all messed up, or the way you move, or how you always bloody smirk at me when you wanna kiss me." He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I always notice you. Don't you notice me?"

Minho crossed over to Newt and pulled him by the shoulders to kiss his forehead. "Yes," he admitted.

Newt tipped his chin up, amusement curling his lips. "What about me?" he asked.

"Your eyes," Minho answered. "And—" He broke off as Newt leaned up and kissed his jaw, lips soft and enticing. His words stuck in his throat.

"And?" Newt spread his fingers at the back of Minho's neck.

"And your, um, your voice." God, did Minho love Newt's voice, with its rich accent making it sound like poetry. As he spoke, Newt continued to trace little kisses along Minho's jaw. He looped his hands around Newt's waist and curled them in the back of his shirt. "How you say my name," he managed, as Newt reached his ear and his breath tickled the skin there. "Um, y—your hair, when you get out of the shower." Humming for him to go on, Newt ran the tip of his tongue along Minho's earlobe. Minho's fingers clenched in the back of Newt's shirt. "How you're still careful," Minho mumbled on an exhale, "when you touch me. Like you need permission first."

Newt's smile curved against Minho's skin. He grazed his nose over Minho's ear and whispered to him, "may I?"

"Yes," Minho sighed in bliss.

Newt grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. A small sound left Minho's throat as he caught his fingers in Newt's front pockets to reel him in. His mind spun in woozy circles as Newt kissed with lazy sweeps of his tongue that drove Minho mad. He splayed his hands at Newt's lower back as they kissed, getting rougher and more desperate. Hooking a leg around Minho's, Newt wrapped his arms around Minho's neck to bring him closer. He tasted like sugar, all sweetness, and it was enough to make Minho dizzy. In a moment of weakness, he licked Newt's bottom lip. Newt whimpered and Minho lost his mind.

Seizing Newt's hips, Minho started forward, taking Newt with him. Gasping, Newt backed up, clinging to Minho's shoulders for support. Minho ducked and crushed their mouths together again. Lovely, little whines escaped Newt as they kissed wildly, hardly finding time to breathe. Minho was drunk on Newt and he wanted to taste more of him, every single inch of him. He turned them so that they headed toward the living room. Suddenly, in a single motion, Newt spun them around and planted his hands on Minho's chest. Electricity lit Minho on fire as Newt pushed him past the coffee table and toward their large, white couch.

Minho swallowed as Newt slipped a hand under his shirt and felt the ripple of his stomach. "Do you want to—?"

"Yes," Newt breathed out, and shoved Minho back onto the couch.

Minho shifted so he could lay out on his back and Newt immediately straddled him. Clutching Newt's shirt, Minho yanked him down to kiss him again. He slipped his tongue past Newt's lips and Newt moaned shamelessly into his mouth. There was glorious body heat flooding into Minho from Newt's hands on his chest, their mouths together, through the denim of Newt's jeans. He could drown in it; he was already high on Newt's husky, needy answer of "yes."

Knotting his fingers in Minho's tee, Newt sat up and hauled Minho with him. Now perched on Minho's lap, he broke the kiss and lifted his arms above his head. "Take it off," he pleaded, chest heaving.

Minho obediently rucked Newt's shirt up his body and over his arms. He practically threw it to the ground in his haste to look at every new centimeter of creamy, smooth skin. He had to bite his lip over a sound when he saw the beauty of Newt's M tattooed on his chest. Wanting to see the desire in Newt's eyes and physically starving for the blonde, Minho ripped his own shirt off. He had one moment to glimpse Newt's gaze clouding over before he brought his lips down to Newt's shoulder.

Newt gasped sharply, threading the fingers of one hand in the hair at the back of Minho's head. Minho worshipped the feather-soft skin as he kissed along the line of Newt's shoulder. Running his hands down Newt's back, he gently sank his teeth in. Newt dug his fingertips into Minho's back. The almost-pain sent jolts along Minho's nerves. He mouthed up to Newt's neck and worked a sensitive place with his teeth. "Minho," Newt breathed, tilting his head to expose more of his neck.

"Tell me that you belong to me," Minho murmured, pausing to place tiny kisses on Newt's throat.

"I belong to you," Newt whispered. Minho sucked at a place on his neck and he dropped his head back, purring. "I've always belonged to you."

Love like no other pooled in Minho's heart. Twining his fingers in Newt's hair, he tipped the blonde's head to the side. The savage, pinkish scar beneath his jaw was revealed, twisting the otherwise-flawless skin. Minho traced it with kisses and then ran his tongue along the length of it. Newt whimpered, "please," and Minho continued to tease the scar with the slightest hint of teeth. He didn't know if it was still sensitive, but he knew that Newt loved when Minho paid attention to it; a way to move on from the attack, maybe.

Minho could feel Newt's hands all over him, his chest, his stomach, running over his thighs and up his back. Newt desperately kissed at Minho's neck and collarbone. "I don't know," he whined out. "I want all of you at once, and I don't know what part of you I want more."

Cupping Newt's face, Minho looked into those blue eyes he'd fallen so deeply in love with. "Then take all of me." He didn't want to say he begged, but he might as well have been. He ached for Newt so badly, he didn't know how he didn't ravish the blonde right there.

Newt's breaths quickened and he touched his lips to Minho's chin, and then his neck. Minho tilted his head back as Newt kissed a line down the center of his throat. Newt's lips were soft and every once in a while, he'd nip at Minho's skin. Minho's eyelids fell closed, then snapped open again when Newt rolled his hips on top of Minho's. Gripping Minho's shoulders, Newt ground onto him again. Pleasure shot up Minho's body and he scrabbled to hold Newt's thighs, and bring their bodies together again. Leaving all traces of his usual modesty behind, Newt started grinding their hips together like he'd been craving Minho all day. Minho's head fell back and he groaned at the delicious friction.

"Lay back," Newt ordered, a hand on the N inked onto Minho's chest.

Something about the lanky, angelic blonde ordering Minho around was definitely sexy. "Someone's bossy today," Minho commented, allowing himself to be pushed back onto the couch.

"I am, aren't I?" Newt asked, smirking slightly. He pulled at Minho's belt loops. "I'm on top tonight."

That dark comment was the last thing he said before he bent and started kissing Minho's chest. Minho's head dropped onto the couch and he set his hands at Newt's hips. He bit his tongue to stop a whimper as Newt ran his tongue along the lines of the N tattoo. Then he was moving downward, making his way slowly down Minho's body. Minho gripped the edge of the couch so hard, his fingers ached. His hips canted up as Newt licked down his abs and he couldn't stop it this time as he moaned.

"Newt, please," Minho managed.

"You're wearing too much," Newt pointed out, sitting up to tug at Minho's jeans. He got them open and briefly sank his hands inside, just enough to feel the hot skin of Minho's hips.

Minho mewled. "Take yours off too," he replied, as he lifted his hips up to push out of his jeans.

Newt was grinning as he climbed off of Minho to get out of his pants. His movements were just has hurried as Minho's were, shoving his jeans off in fast motions. Minho had to do some maneuvering to get his off on a couch, but once he did, he was grabbing Newt's hand. The blonde actually blushed as Minho pulled him back and let him sit back on Minho's lap. Sitting up, Minho skimmed his palms up Newt's thighs, the lovely smoothness of his sides, and his chest. He traced the M with his finger. "God," he whispered. "I'd really let you do anything to me, wouldn't I? I'd let you break my heart and I'd still be this in love with you."

Newt shuddered. "Just c'mere, Minho." He coiled an arm around Minho's neck and brought his lips to Minho's ear. He caught his earlobe between his teeth and sucked lightly. A jerk tightened Minho's body, his hands grasping at Newt's flaxen hair. He ran it slowly between his fingers, reveling in how soft it was. All the while, Newt kissed at his ear, murmuring low I-love-you's and calling Minho 'my love,' or 'my heart.' His voice was shatteringly exquisite shaping those words and Minho closed his eyes against the emotion filling him. Then his heartbeat was picking up again as Newt sank him back down onto the couch.

Newt wasted no time in kissing Minho like it was the last time they'd ever touch. He speared his fingers deep into Minho's hair and Minho let him make a mess of it. He grabbed at the backs of Newt's thighs to pull him impossibly closer and listened to every sound Newt made. The blonde ran his hands over Minho's body until Minho was shivering under him. He almost begged aloud when Newt's fingers dipped into the waistband of his briefs. "Let me see you," Newt murmured, and Minho lifted up his hips.

They began to lose their minds, in that urgent, burning way that only came from being in love. Newt pretty much tore Minho's briefs off and Minho made no objections. Certainly not when Newt was already tossing his own clothing onto the floor. Minho seized Newt by the shoulders and dragged him down on top of him. Their bodies pressed together hotly, drawing equal sounds of pleasure from both of them. Minho had planned on flipping them over, but when Newt began rubbing his heated, flushed skin against Minho's, he decided he could wait. His hands couldn't choose where to touch; Newt's spine, his hips, the backs of his thighs. Skin on skin was making Minho delirious. He didn't know how much longer he could take this beautiful torture.

Taking Newt's shoulders again, Minho switched positions. Newt blinked as he thumped into the couch cushions. "I said I'd be on top," he protested, breathing hard. Strands of golden hair flopped over his eyes; he looked like a fallen angel with his kiss-flushed lips and lust in his gaze.

"Too bad," Minho decided shortly. He covered another protest by pressing his lips to Newt's. "Let me make love to you." Newt wilted and gave in.

The urgency didn't leave them as Minho hiked Newt's legs up to slip himself between them. Newt scrambled for a hold around Minho's neck, trembling in anticipation. "Please," he choked, ghosting his mouth over Minho's nose and lips. "Please, do it."

Minho moved himself forward in return and loud moans came from both of them as he slid easily into Newt. It was like the first time, and the time after that, and every other time. His lungs wouldn't work, and his black hair was down in his eyes, and he wanted to wreck Newt until the blonde couldn't take anymore. But Minho was never like that with Newt. Instead, he bent to kiss Newt's forehead and asked him quietly, "are you okay, love?"

"Y—yes," Newt stammered. "Now—I want you, Minho."

Minho covered Newt's mouth with his own and drank in the rightness of this, of them together. Then he was rocking his hips back and then in, and Newt was coming apart under him. Nails bit into his neck as Newt clenched his fingers. He made the most filthy sounds as Minho licked into his mouth, hips pushing into Newt's again and again. It was hellishly good and Minho found himself moving faster, despite earlier carefulness. Newt panted raggedly, cradling Minho's jaw to keep him there. He didn't say anything when Minho ground into him harder, but a long, low whimper tore out of him.

"Angel," Minho mumbled incoherently. "My beautiful angel..." He grabbed Newt's wrists from his neck and pinned them up above his head on the couch. He stopped any objection from Newt with a hard thrust of his hips that sent Newt out of his mind.

"Minho," Newt gasped out, arching up. Crossing his legs around Minho's waist for a better angle, he turned and pressed his cheek to the couch cushion. Minho watched Newt's lips part and his head fall back as Minho drove into him roughly. Ducking, he kissed at Newt's neck, tasting his slicked skin and groaning against his collarbone. "I love you," he whispered. "My life, I love you."

Newt barely managed to get the words out himself as they moved together in the lamplight.

They didn't even realize that it was the first time they'd ever made love in that living room.

-X-X-X-

It was growing dark outside, the sky turned to star-speckled navy in the windows. In the Newton's house, the living room was lit to a golden glow by lamps on coffee tables. The TV screen showed a blonde artist laughing with a wealthy girl on a ship. On the couch was a tangle of blanket, clothes, Newt, and Minho.

Minho had found a thin, cream-colored blanket beneath a table next to the couch. After, well, yeah, AFTER, he'd draped it over both of them. They hadn't bothered to even get dressed again; they were both tired and bone-meltingly lazy in the made-love-two-minutes-ago way. Minho was propped up on a pillow, watching Titanic and with the blanket not quite reaching his shoulders or chest. Newt was stretched out on top of him, cheek resting on his chest and half-asleep. Their legs slotted together and Minho's hand shaped to the curve of Newt's lower back. His other hand played absently in Newt's hair and Newt was sketching patterns on Minho's bicep with his fingertip.

It was pleasantly quiet.

Newt smiled when Jack took Rose's hand and led her through the ship on a mad chase. He touched a kiss to Minho's chest. "Would you run away with me, on the Titanic?" he asked jokingly.

Minho chuckled, strands of tousled hair falling into his eyes; unusual from how it was commonly spiked. "Where would we run to?" he asked. "It's a ship."

"You know what I mean." Newt watched as the scene with the car played out, Rose looking nervously into Jack's eyes. "Would you do that with me?"

"Have sex in a car? Absolutely."

"Shut up."

"We can totally go down into the car right now."

"Minho."

Minho laughed good-humoredly. "Sorry," he apologized, stroking his hand over Newt's hair again. He massaged the back of Newt's neck for a moment and Newt purred in his arms. Minho grinned. "But yes. I would run away with you."

Newt trailed a fingertip down Minho's side. "Oh?" he asked airily. "And how would we meet?"

Minho smoothed the bangs off of Newt's forehead. "You'd be the rich one," he replied. "Because you'd be a famous photographer and all I'd be is a poor guy with a guitar. You'd be traveling with your family, and taking pictures of the ship. You'd wear a suit and you'd look incredible." He paused to let Newt shift on him, getting to a better position with his hand on Minho's arm. "I'd be playing one night, on the deck. You'd hear me, and come out, and ask me my name. And I'd tell you because you're charming, and your accent would make me wanna hear you say my name just once."

Newt smiled. "What then?" he asked.

"You'd tell me yours, and we'd both start telling our stories of how we got there," Minho went on. "I'd play for you and you'd save pictures of me. And even though I hate singing, I'd sing for you, only you. It might take a few days or a week, but we'd fall in love." He kissed the top of Newt's head. "I'd make love to you," he whispered and Newt shivered. "Not in a car, maybe, but somewhere special to us. On the last day, I wouldn't care what happened or how fast the ship sank, as long as I was with you."

"You're quite a storyteller," Newt murmured.

"Another one of my hidden talents."

"I like it."

Minho looked up at the screen, in time to see Rose and Jack kissing in some deserted hallway. He moved his gaze back to the stunning, gorgeous blonde in his arms. He couldn't believe that Newt was his. "I love you," he said softly.

Newt closed his eyes. "I love you, too, Minho."

Together, they watched the Titanic sail on open waters, safe in a golden room, deep in their own love story.

-PS: If you're willing to let me take a short break from this fic, I'll gladly write a short fanfic of the Titanic story Minho told Newt. If you want me to, let me know and I'd love to write this little love story ;)

Also, I don't know if cameras existed back then...They have pictures of the Titanic though, right?-


	3. Chapter 3

-Yassss I loved this one! It gave me a chance to share some old haunts from Newt's past and have Minho be his comforting, adorable self, and ANNABELLE :). Hope you like it and thank you for the wonderful reviews so far!

Note: sorry sorry sorry for the brief language, I hate the word used in this, but it wouldn't have the same effect if I used any other word. I'm very sorry if anyone's offended; I was trying to be accurate in portraying homophobes-

-DAY 3: Find a scenic location and watch the sunset together-

Okay, Belle was there for that one.

-X-X-X-

There weren't many chances for the Newton's to have a vacation. They had a little jar labeled 'VACATION' on top of the fridge, where they dropped a few dollars or quarters in as they passed. It had been collecting more and more money every day, since the first day Minho and Newt moved into the house. Now, though, they also had Belle to give her input; and by input, she added only enthusiastic ideas for places they could go. (Disney World, Sea World, and multiple other amusement parks were among her list of favorites)

In the end, they'd ended up at the beach.

"Oh my god, there's sand EVERYWHERE."

Hearing the groaned complaint, Newt snickered. He glanced back at Minho over his shoulder. "That's kinda what a beach is, Min," he pointed out.

"I don't care. I didn't expect it to stick to me so much." Minho huffed as he picked his way over the white sands, barefoot and dressed in nothing more than black swim trunks. A pair of dainty hands sank into his spiked hair and rumpled it.

"Hurry up, hurry up, we're gonna miss it!" Belle exclaimed from her perch on Minho's shoulders. She pointed out at the ocean before them, all fire-and-gold in the sun's dying rays. Her hair was caught back in a ponytail and the wind tugged at it and turned it to flame. She looked much too cute in her royal blue swimsuit, beaming atop Minho's shoulders.

Minho winced as his daughter bounced happily above him. "The sunset's not going anywhere, Belle," he told her, hands secure on her knees. "We won't miss it."

"Then why're we taking so long to sit down?" she asked.

"Why don't you ask your father?" Minho shot a meaningful look at Newt, as though to say, hurry it up, she's killing me.

"I just did," she said confusedly.

Minho mumbled something under his breath and Newt laughed. "I'm just trying to find a good spot, right up front," he explained. The waves climbed softly up the beach and back down again, marking the place where they could sit without getting wet. Newt wanted them to be as close to the ocean as possible. He claimed it was for Annabelle's sake, but really, he just loved the ocean.

"Right up front," Minho repeated flatly. "As if that's gonna make a difference. It's a sunset, not a firework show."

"Crabby."

"Am not."

"Are too." Newt dropped back to walk beside his husband. Minho's gaze followed him and Newt sensed Minho taking in the red swim trunks and the rest of the blonde's lean form. A little tingle of delight tickled his stomach. He touched Minho's arm briefly. "Why're you so much more sarcastic today, huh?" he asked quietly. "Something happen?"

"Well...no," Minho hedged. He glanced up at Belle, obviously not wanting to disturb her with their conversation. "It's nothing."

"I know it's not nothing," Newt replied, gazing back out at the sea opening up like great, blue book pages ahead of them. "I've known you since I was sixteen. I can always tell when something's wrong."

Minho blew out a long sigh. "You know me too well," he murmured, and Newt dropped a kiss on his cheek. "It's just...I'm distracted."

Newt cocked his head. "Why?"

"I'm surprised you aren't too."

"Me?" Newt blinked. "Why would I be distracted?"

Minho studied him for a very long moment. There was something close to sadness in his black-coffee-colored eyes. Then he shook his head. "I don't want to ruin the night for you," he replied. "So, I won't tell you."

"But I want to know," Newt protested. He waited, but Minho was silent. Resting a hand on his shoulder, Newt tried again. "Minho?"

"Not now. I'll tell you later." Minho offered a half-smile, the caring evident in his expression. "After Belle gets what she wants."

"Yeah!" Belle cheered suddenly, having overheard them. "I can't wait!" Peering down around Minho's head, she gazed at Newt through glowing, green eyes. "Aren't you excited, Daddy?"

Troubled, Newt had to pull his attention away from Minho's face. He smiled up at her and reached up to take her outstretched hand for a moment. "Of course I'm excited, sweetheart."

She giggled and turned to stare back out at the sun sinking down on the horizon. It shone on the contours of her face, illuminating her skin to gold. Her huge, eager grin was making every day on this vacation worth it.

The family chose a place right by the ocean, Newt folding his legs under him and sitting cross-legged. "All right, Belle, you gotta go," Minho teased. Reaching up, he hoisted Belle up off his shoulders and placed her down in front of him. She quickly plunked herself down on the sand and stuck her hands in the cool waves as they crept up to her toes. An adorable snigger made her wrinkle her nose as the water came up just enough to tickle her feet.

There was open affection in Minho's face as he watched her, rubbing the place on his neck where she'd sat. He took a seat next to Newt, bending one knee and propping his elbow up on it. "Look at her," he remarked, gesturing at Belle kicking her feet in the water.

Newt arched a brow at him. "Awww," he cooed jokingly, "you look cute as the proud father."

"Yeah, yeah," Minho scoffed. "I look cute no matter what I'm doing."

"You're a complete ass when you're sick."

"Oh, and you're a walk in the park?" Newt shoved him then, and Minho laughed. The streaks of gold in his beautiful irises lit up in the sunlight. "But seriously, c'mon," he went on. "Don't you love it when she's like this?"

Newt followed his gaze. Belle was now attempting to count down the seconds until sunset, even asking passerby in her sweet, tinkling voice if they knew how long it would be. Warmth brimmed in Newt's whole being. "Yeah," he answered, "I do."

"I love her," Minho murmured softly. He picked at the sand with one finger. "So much sometimes, that I forget she's not really ours."

Worry rustled in Newt's heart. "Do you regret it at all?" he asked. "Not being able to have children of your own?"

Minho leaned over with no preamble and stole a lingering kiss from Newt's lips. When he broke it, their foreheads rested together. "I never regret anything I've done, as long as it was done with you."

Newt searched Minho's eyes for a long minute. Some of his play faded away. "What's bothering you, then?" he asked. Minho sighed and started to turn his head away. But Newt gently cupped his cheek and urged him to look back again. "No, please. Tell me."

Minho closed his eyes as Newt's thumb caressed his cheek. With a final glance at Belle, he lowered his voice to answer. "All right," he muttered. "If you really want to know."

"Well, yeah, I wanna know," Newt replied. "You're my husband and something's bothering you."

Minho let out a rough exhale. He seemed to fight some inner battle, debating whether or not to confess to Newt. But, of course, he'd confess to his angel, he always did. "Today's July sixteenth," he finally said quietly.

No sound came at all, except for Belle's laughter, people walking by, and the whisper of the ocean. Newt's heart skipped a couple of beats as he realized what today was and what had happened on that day a year ago. "Oh." He rubbed at the scar marring his neck.

"Shuck it," Minho swore under his breath. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have said anything in the first place."

"No, it's fine." The scarred tissue felt obscene and bumpy under his fingertips.

"I ruined your day," Minho mumbled, dejected. "I don't know why I brought it up. It—it just bothered me, I guess."

Newt stopped rubbing his neck in surprise. "Why does it bother you?" he asked. "It was me who was—" He halted, physically unable to say the word.

"That's it, though." Minho touched a kiss to Newt's nose as though he couldn't resist trying to make his husband feel better. "I still can't get over it. I can't stand that someone did that to you, that—that he touched you the way only I—" He broke off as soon as he realized what that sounded like, blushing faintly. "Sorry."

"Min." Newt traced Minho's jawline with a fingertip. "You don't have to apologize." Biting his lip, he nearly smiled. "You know that you're the only one I ever let...touch me, like that."

The faintest smirk appeared on Minho's lips. "I'll remember that," he replied mischievously, and Newt rolled his eyes. Then Minho sobered. "But, seriously, Newt: I'm sorry. This is supposed to be a vacation and I'm ruining it."

Newt shook his head. "You're not ruining anything," he reassured Minho. "I do think the same thing sometimes. I wish it hadn't happened." Glancing down, he wrinkled his nose as he ran his fingers over the other scar on his wrist. "And I wish I didn't have these ugly scars," he added. Then, "hey, what're you—?"

Minho had snatched Newt's wrist away. Tenderly, he raised it to his lips and ghosted a kiss to the slash of marked skin. "I think you're beautiful," he murmured, "with or without your scars."

Newt stared at him, feeling his heart blossom inside of him until he couldn't take it. Screw being in public, he thought. "Minho," he whispered, clasping the back of Minho's neck and leaning in, noses brushing.

Minho pulled back a little. "Shouldn't we...? I mean, we're in public," he said, mainly surprised that shy Newt hadn't thought of it. They didn't like to show TOO much affection in public, due to the fact there was a good chance people wouldn't approve.

"Min, just kiss me," Newt pleaded.

Minho gave a little sigh, that meant he was going to give in. Sparing a glance at Belle playing, he angled his head to meet Newt's lips. They kissed slow and soft. Newt felt lightheaded and slipped one hand into Minho's hair, feeling the ebony velvet between his fingers. He could never get tired of this.

Suddenly, a loud, rather obnoxious voice snapped from another place on the beach: "ugh, why don't you get a room?!"

Newt stiffened, but Minho growled and just kissed him harder. "Minho—" Newt was interrupted by Minho's mouth rough on his; when someone muttered, "faggots," Minho casually flipped them off over Newt's shoulder.

"Minho!" Newt hissed, breaking the kiss breathlessly. "Belle's right there!"

Minho was busy glaring at some guy. "Yeah, keep walking," he muttered, as the guy passed them by with a sour expression on his wrinkled, aged face. Then he turned back to Newt. "What?" he protested. "She's busy playing; she didn't see anything." He called to Belle, "did you see Dad just now, Annabelle?"

"Nope!" she chirped merrily, splashing in the water. "The sunset's about to start!"

"Thank you, honey." Minho smirked triumphantly. "See? She didn't see me flip off a guy and I don't have to go beat him up later, because he learned his lesson. Problem solved."

Newt heaved a strained breath. Leave it to Minho to cause trouble and get away with it. "You can't stand up to every homophobe we meet, you know."

"I can, and so far, I have," Minho returned. He braced his hands on the sand behind him and leaned back. Ahead of him, the sun was a burning orb sinking lower and lower toward the ocean. The waves were ignited to full orange by now.

Newt shook his head. "I guess I should take it as a compliment then," he relented. "With you defending my honor and all."

"You make me sound like a knight."

"You are a knight. You're MY knight."

"I'm honored to serve you, angel."

Newt laughed and scooted closer to Minho. Their skin pressed together as he leaned against Minho's shoulder. He heard a lovely, quiet sound of bliss that Minho made, as Newt turned and nuzzled at Minho's neck. "Love me?" he asked.

Dropping a kiss on top of Newt's head, Minho whispered, "forever."

"Looklooklook!" Belle cheered abruptly. She scrambled over to her fathers and sat herself down in Minho's lap. Back against his stomach, she pointed gleefully out at the sun. "It's starting, it's starting!"

"And we have front-row seats," Minho told her, smiling and stroking a hand over her hair. She giggled and he shared a warm glance with Newt over her head. Just staring at the two people he loved more than anyone else, Newt couldn't imagine being anywhere other than here.

Together, they watched the setting sun turn the sky into red-and-orange fireworks above the sea.


	4. Chapter 4

-Thanks for so many amazing, awesome reviews! Here's more Minewt! Yay! :D-

-DAY 4: Dress up, and have a fancy date night-

There was really only one truly nice place to eat near Glade City, so yeah, they went to Starstruck.

-X-X-X-

"Newt! Get dressed in something other than a hoodie!"

The yelled comment came from Minho, who was currently in the shower. The hot water hissed around him and sent dripping strands of raven hair into his eyes. He smoothed some of it off his face and strained to listen for Newt's voice over the running water.

"Okay, okay!" Newt shouted back a second later. "Does that mean something formal or something somewhat-nice?"

"Formal-ish!" Minho called back.

"That doesn't answer my question!"

Minho grinned, not feeling guilty at all for teasing his husband. He was too happy, stupidly happy, even. He felt wonderfully high on the night ahead and on silly love for Newt. He hadn't told Newt where they were going yet; he wanted it to be a surprise. He'd decided that it had been too long since they'd had a proper night out, without Belle skipping between restaurant tables, or Minho exchanging insults with someone. God, the last time they'd actually dressed up for a date was back when Newt proposed to Minho outside Starstruck. So, yeah, about four years ago.

Four years, they'd been married. Minho never knew that only four years of a lifetime could be the best years of someone's life.

"I hope he still likes Starstruck," he muttered to himself. "Because there's nowhere else to go around here."

Suddenly, from outside, he heard the click of the door swinging open and thumping footsteps. A familiar, accented voice sounded through the frosted glass shower door. "Minho, can you please just tell me where we're going? I have no idea what to even wear."

"Suit," Minho answered casually.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me."

"Uggghhh, I don't wanna wear a suit..."

"Wow. Whiner."

"Okay, you know what—" A shadowy figure appeared in the door's glass, right before someone hauled the shower door open. Newt stood outside, blonde hair rumpled and wearing a white dress shirt with only half the buttons done so far.

Minho yelped. "Hey!" he protested, lifting hands in a what-the-shuck gesture. "They have this great new thing called privacy!"

Newt flapped a hand uncaringly. "I've seen you before," he scoffed. "Now, tell me where we're going."

"No." Minho folded his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Minho, come on."

"It's a surprise."

Newt sighed in frustration. The gaping V of his shirt showed a glimpse of soft skin and the black ink of his M tattoo. He looked like he'd just been put up against a wall and kissed. Minho swallowed. "Min, I'm warning you," Newt said, pointing at Minho imperiously. "If you don't tell me, I'll come in there."

Minho flashed a deadly smirk. "Come in then, sweetheart, that's not a punishment to me."

"Shank." Newt dropped his gaze down and then up quickly, when he realized he was basically ravishing Minho with his eyes. A blush tinted his cheeks. "Just get ready so I can find out where you're taking me."

"I'll take you right here, if you want..." Minho suggested darkly.

"Be quiet, you know what I mean." Newt cast his gaze heavenward, as though asking for strength. But he paused, and then flitted forward to press a short kiss to Minho's mouth. Minho hummed in appreciation, especially when Newt took the time to lick a drop of water off his bottom lip. "Don't tempt me, love," Newt murmured, "or I won't be able to leave and we'll miss the whole night you have planned."

"Who says this isn't part of the plan?" Minho asked devilishly. He leaned in for another kiss, but Newt backed away.

"I have to get dressed," Newt replied meaningfully. "In a suit, according to you. So, no, you can't have me now." A smile twisted his lips and he actually winked at Minho before shutting the shower door again.

Minho stared after him and considered cancelling the entire night.

-X-X-X-

It was positively adorable when Newt let out a delighted squeak as they pulled into the parking lot of Starstruck. The squat, cream-colored building sat proudly with its glass double doors, decorated with black stars and its logo in elegant lettering. The outside lights were softly glowing down on the walkway outside the doors and rich, heavy curtains were visible through the windows. It was just as busy and beautiful as it always was.

"Happy now?" Minho asked loftily, as he pulled the car toward an empty parking space.

"Yes!" Newt answered with such giddy happiness that it made Minho melt. The blonde leaned across the car to kiss Minho's cheek affectionately. "I love Starstruck."

"I remembered," Minho replied, with a humble shrug.

"How—?" Newt's question trailed away when Minho just took his hand and rubbed his thumb over his wedding ring.

"Because you asked me something here," Minho replied simply. Smiling, he let go of Newt's hand again.

Newt's eyes shone like twin, storm-blue orbs. "I forgive you for keeping this a secret," he told Minho, glancing out the car window at the magnificent restaurant again. The backdrop of the building's lighting gave him a lovely glow in his fitted suit. "But only because they have great food," he added with a half-grin.

Minho tore his gaze off of his stunning husband so that he could park the car without crashing. "They do have great food, don't they? I forgot what I even got here last time though..." He finally eased the car into place and shut off the engine. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt, looking over at Newt. "You really forgive me?"

"Forgive you?" Newt repeated, chuckling in such a lovestruck way that it had Minho's stomach tingling with butterflies. "I could kiss you right now."

Minho raised one eyebrow. "Well, I mean," he began, fiddling with his sleeves, "you can, if you want."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Newt replied playfully. "You're my husband." He said "husband" as though it was a sacred thing, a gift. He bent across the car again and turned Minho's face toward him with a finger on his chin; their lips brushed and he kissed Minho softly. When he broke it, he let their noses brush as he spoke. "I don't know what I did to deserve you to be mine," he murmured. "I get to be with you every day, and do this—" He stroked fingertips down Minho's cheek, eliciting a tiny purr. "—touch you whenever I want."

"Feeling sentimental?" Minho asked.

"Shut up." Newt gave Minho's hair a chastising tug. "I just love that you love me."

"Well, angel," Minho murmured, taking Newt's hand and kissing his knuckles, "I love that you love me, too."

When they walked into the restaurant together, there were the usual stares and a couple of whispers. Not many people here were used to seeing two guys together. But they all had the decency to keep their mouths shut for the most part and none of them confronted the couple. Minho had gotten a table close to the center of the room, a little farther away from the surrounding ones. Directly in front of it was a raised floor with a gorgeous grand piano shining under the lamplight. Someone sat at it and played, a young man with dark curls and eyes that flashed amber. In the process of pulling out his chair, Minho paused and stared.

"I don't believe it."

"What?" Newt followed Minho's gaze and narrowed his eyes at the pianist. Then his eyebrows shot up. "No way."

"It's Brian," Minho replied, and broke into a broad grin. "I didn't know he came back from New York."

"I didn't know he played piano," Newt put in.

Minho bent to speak in Newt's ear. "Think he'll recognize us?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Newt asked in return. "We both look pretty much the same, just older. And if he doesn't recognize our looks, he'll DEFINITELY remember your sarcasm."

"True," Minho conceded, with a playfully scolding touch at the small of Newt's back. As they sat down, he looked up and met eyes once with the pianist, Brian. Brian's eyes went wider and he smiled in greeting, unable to wave because he was playing. Minho smiled back, a silent conversation. Sneaking a look at Minho's date, Brian chuckled, as though he'd known all along who Minho would end up marrying. He raised his eyebrows at Minho in question; in reply, Minho raised a hand and showed off his wedding ring.

"Where do you think Max ended up going?" Newt asked suddenly. "I know he lives near here; we saw him at Brenda's party once. But I know that he was really close to Brian."

"Those two were even more in love than we were," Minho remarked in agreement. "And I dunno. He says he's cooking somewhere now."

"Cooking? Like, as in a chef?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Newt was silent, thinking.

Minho noticed. "What?"

Shaking his head, Newt fiddled with a folded napkin. "Nothing," he answered. "I just wonder..."

Their conversation was then interrupted by the arrival of the waiter. "Sorry about the wait; we're short on staff tonight, and I'm normally in the... Minho?"

Minho glanced up and—almost fell off his chair. A spiky-haired redhead was looking down at him through round, green eyes, a spray of freckles across his nose. He wore waiter's clothes: black pants and a white button-down shirt. But there was no mistaking the familiar features. "Max! You work here?"

"Well, yeah," Max chuckled, a friendly smile quirking his lips. "I've been working here since I got out of culinary school."

"I can't believe I never knew." Minho cocked his head. "Aren't you a cook though?"

Max scrubbed at the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I am," he admitted. "But one of our waiters had an emergency last-minute and I volunteered to fill in. Otherwise, Frypan would've had a fit."

"Frypan?" Minho echoed.

"He's the head chef. That's his nickname."

"Does he have a real name?"

"...I actually don't know."

They shared fond laughter with each other, arising from years of friendship in high school. Max had been on the track team with Minho, along with Brian. They'd been great friends until college stole them all away in different directions. In fact, the only people who had stuck together through college were Minho, Newt, Thomas, and Gally.

Max's voice brought Minho back out of old memories. "Hi, Newt," the redhead greeted brightly. "How've you been?"

Unease coiled in Minho's stomach; the last time Max had spoken to them, Newt had been jealous of the redhead's old crush on Minho. But there was nothing like that in Newt's expression as he gave Max a polite nod. "Hey, Max. It's good to see you." Then he cast a quick glance at Minho. "We've been doing well." The way he added the "we" suggested that maybe he was a bit jealous; he was showing that they were Newt-and-Minho, and there wouldn't be one without the other.

Minho didn't mind. It was doing no harm and he liked seeing a possessive Newt. "Actually, we have some news," he spoke up. "I don't think you heard..."

"Heard what?" Max asked, intrigued.

"We've, um," Minho began, glancing over at Newt, "we've adopted. A daughter."

The shock and then joy on Max's face sent Minho's fatherly pride soaring. "Seriously? That's great! What's her name, how old is she?"

Now Newt was beaming proudly. "Annabelle," he answered. "And she's about seven or eight. It was hard to tell, since she was an orphan and she didn't really know her birthday."

"Congratulations, then. That's awesome." Max shifted his weight to his other foot, thoughtful. "You know, I always knew you two would end up together like this. Not just married, I mean, but just, I dunno. It's always been you two, you know?"

Minho warmed under the compliments. Under the table, Newt was holding his hand. "Thanks," he said in humble gratitude. "What about you, Max?"

Max's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Bobbing his head in the direction of Brian, Minho raised an eyebrow knowingly. "I noticed that Brian works here too. Are you two...?"

Max's freckles dimmed as his cheeks bloomed with color. "O—oh. Um." His gaze wandered over to Brian and softened with fondness. "Yes. We're back together."

"That's awesome," Minho replied, and he meant it. Brian and Max were a great couple. "I'm glad you guys found each other again."

"Yeah, I was floored when Frypan hired him," Max said, toeing the floor with his shoe. "At first, I thought it was too late for us because it'd been too long. But then he—" He halted abruptly, some memory surfacing in his mind that he shouldn't share. "Well...yeah. We got back together."

"I'm really happy for you two," Newt put in, taking Minho off-guard. Where had the hint of jealousy gone? Newt was smiling up at Max like they were best friends.

"Thank you," Max said humbly. Then he froze, eyes widening. "Oh, crap, I completely forgot about your order! I'm supposed to work!"

Minho sniggered at his friend's sudden panic. "Don't worry about it," he reassured. "We were the ones that kept you waiting too long."

"Sorry," Max apologized anyway. He was fishing a black notebook and a pen out of his pocket. "But I can totally take your order now, if you want. It was really nice talking to you."

"It was," Newt agreed, and Minho squeezed his hand under the table.

They gave Max their order and he jotted it down in a hurry. Apologizing again, he strode toward the mahogany double doors off to the side, which probably led to the kitchen. As he passed the piano, Brian made eye contact and winked. Max's ears turned pink and he tripped over his own feet on his way into the kitchen. Love made such wonderful fools of people.

As soon as he was out of sight, Minho sent Newt a wide-eyed look of question. Newt raised a hand, as though to say, what're you looking at? "What?" he asked aloud.

"Since when are you so friendly around Max?" Minho asked.

"I'm always friendly around him."

"Yeah, okay. The last time we saw him somewhere, you got jealous."

"Did not."

"You admitted it." Bending over so that other customers wouldn't overhear, Minho murmured into Newt's ear, "and you had hot, jealous sex with me that night..."

"Oh, of course you'd remember THAT," Newt replied drily. "So what if I was jealous? I'm not jealous now."

"Yeah. 'cause he has a boyfriend now instead of going after me." Minho traced his fingers over the inside of Newt's palm in a way that he knew tickled. Newt jerked his hand away and Minho smirked.

"Exactly." Newt laced his fingers in his lap, not letting Minho get ahold of him again. "Good thing too," he added in a mutter. "Last time, I wanted to bloody deck him."

"Oooh, my angel's acting bad again..."

"Shut it, Min."

"No, go on." Minho rested his elbow on the table and set his chin atop his hand. He looked at Newt from under his lashes. "I like it when you get possessive of me," he purred.

"You're being such a flirt tonight," Newt informed him accusingly. "Trying to get something?"

Minho's gaze dropped deliberately to Newt's lips. "A kiss."

After a moment, Newt relented. "Fine. If that's all." He leaned in as Minho did the same and they kissed once, short, but soft. Before they pulled completely away, Newt added in a breath, "you better not be trying to get something more from me later."

"Love, don't pretend you don't want to give that 'something more' to me later," Minho whispered back, and Newt shivered.

"Shuck." Sitting back against his chair, Newt fingered the tablecloth. "You're so bloody...sexy all the time," he mumbled.

Minho snagged Newt's hand again and stroked his thumb over the back of it. "That's why you love me, right?"

Newt watched in silence, as Minho brought Newt's hand up and kissed his knuckles. His posture relaxed and something like intense affection passed over his face. "Yeah," he said quietly, and smiled. "Among other reasons. Like how you take me out on expensive dates."

Minho couldn't resist kissing the back of Newt's hand again. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

And so, began their first real date, in a long long time.


	5. Chapter 5

-Hi, awesome readers! Sorry for the short chapter, but it felt like a good length this time. Let me know what you think! :)-

-DAY 5: Leave a sweet, sexy, or romantic note somewhere they will find it-

Minho never would admit what a hopeless romantic he was.

-X-X-X-

It was ATROCIOUSLY early in the morning. So early, that the sun was hardly peeking up above the horizon. The sky was stained pinkish gray and the treetops against it were stark and black. It was autumn, so the leaves were almost all gone, having fallen off long ago. It also meant it was bitterly cold in the mornings now, which only added to the overall depressing moments that were about to happen to Minho.

Sometimes, he really hated going for these runs.

"Come on...ugghh, this is taking forever...Christ, I could've made the hot chocolate myself by now." Minho was muttering all of these things to himself as he slumped groggily across the kitchen counter. He felt like hell this early, dragged down by sleep and lingering yawns. At the cheerful beep of the coffeemaker, he mumbled, "thank you!" and straightened up again.

It may not have been too apparent yet, but Minho loved his coffeemaker. He'd brought it with him when he and Newt moved in together. It was basically his second husband. It had settings to make hot chocolate, tea, and coffee, and keep it warm for a certain amount of time it was set to. It didn't beep obnoxiously loud to wake everyone up and it never broke, not once. It was sacred. Minho worshipped this thing and every hot beverage it had ever made for him.

However, the hot chocolate wasn't for him today; he was having plain, stupid water because he was a runner and yeah. Sighing, he punched in a set of numbers on the glowing coffeemaker screen. It'd keep the hot chocolate hot until about seven thirty, which was when Newt woke up to get Belle ready for school while Minho ran. After that, Minho checked to see that there was enough hot chocolate before he lifted his arms for a brief stretch. The muscles pulled satisfyingly under his blue hoodie. He'd switched to the warmer clothing and his gym shorts because of the bitingly chilly mornings they had now.

"Now, I gotta go torture myself," he yawned. He strode toward the door, scratching his head and messing up his hair even more.

He made it about two steps out the kitchen doorway when he got an idea. Pausing, he glanced around the interior of the kitchen. Spotting what he wanted, he went to the counter and grabbed a pack of sticky-notes from by the fridge. There was a cute, eggshell-blue cup there too, with pens; he took one of them too and clicked it open. Squinting up at the ceiling, he thought of what to write. "Uhhhh..." Wow, he sucked at writing.

C'mon, a nagging voice in his head piped up, he's your husband! Just say what'd you say to him in person!

"All right," Minho sighed, and bent over the counter. Making his best attempt at decent handwriting, he scribbled out:

Angel,

Thought you'd like something sweet this morning.

(But it's nowhere near as sweet as you)

See you later.

Love, Min

Minho read it once and nearly threw it out. "I'm so freakin' cheesy." Shaking his head, he ripped off the note and reached up to open a cupboard. Finding Newt's favorite Downton Abbey mug (yes, yes he had a Downton Abbey mug. He was such a fangirl for that show), he stuck the sticky-note to it.

He better love me a lot, to make me write notes like that, Minho thought. With that, he jogged out of the house.

-X-X-X-

When Minho arrived at home later on, sweaty and panting, he was surprised when the door swung open on its own in front of him. "What the shuck?" He would've said more, but then Newt was there, looking heavenly in his tight, black shirt. With no warning, he seized Minho by the neckline and hauled him inside.

"Newt, what—?" Minho stuttered as Newt slammed the door shut and backed him up against it.

Far from angelic, Newt pressed their bodies together and hummed in satisfaction. Blonde hair fell down into his eyes as he leaned in very close, nose grazing Minho's. "I just wanna show you how 'sweet' I really am," he murmured, a sinister smile flirting with his too-kissable lips.

Minho shivered, as Newt slid his hands slowly up under Minho's hoodie. He was gonna have to remember to write corny notes EVERY SINGLE DAY.

"So you got the...?"

"Yeah, Min, I got it."


	6. Chapter 6

-Another short one! Hope you like it, and thanks for the reviews :)-

-DAY 6: Make time for morning sex-

Mornings were always hurried, most of the time. Belle had to go to school, Minho ran sometimes, Newt got Belle ready... It was hard to share more than a passing "hello."

That's why it only happened on a Sunday, when Belle was sleeping over at a friend's house, and Minho was too lazy to run.

Newt was definitely not complaining.

-X-X-X-

This morning, Newt didn't know what it was about him, but Minho looked positively delectable.

Newt had woken up first, dragging himself out of dreams as the golden morning sunlight filtered in through the window. First, he tried to remember what day it was and why Annabelle wasn't jumping on the bed to wake them up. Then he remembered it was Sunday and she was gone on a sleepover at Katie's. And then he'd decided to sleep in just a little while longer. He'd shifted in bed to his side, messy hair flopping over his eyes, and had paused. He'd rolled right into Minho by mistake, though not hard enough to wake him up.

Minho was gorgeous this morning: ebony hair a mess, shirtless, in only briefs, the sheets covering him from the waist down. One arm was shoved up under his pillow and he laid on his side. Quiet, slow breaths came from him as he slept. Newt, who had ended up face-to-face with Minho's collarbone, stared stupidly. His arms were folded in front of him and barely brushed Minho's skin. Newt couldn't remember the last time Minho had looked so sexy before he even woke up. It made warmth twist in Newt's stomach.

"...Min?" he tried in a soft voice.

A garbled mumble of syllables left Minho in his sleep, and Newt only caught the last of it. "Newt..." In his sleep, Minho tossed an arm around Newt's waist and forced him up against Minho's body. Then he sank back into his dreams.

Newt, nose now grazing Minho's chest, couldn't think clearly at all. His hands were pinned between his body and Minho's, tucked under his chin. A hand was pressing into the small of his back, making it impossible to move. But he didn't mind, not at all. Minho smelled so damn good, like soap and skin. His body was warm on Newt's, so warm that Newt suddenly felt like the outside world was chilly. Taking advantage of Minho being asleep, Newt cuddled closer to his husband and rested his cheek on his chest. The fantastic sensation of warm skin and toned muscle made him close his eyes with a sigh.

I could get addicted to this so easily, Newt thought. The feel of Minho holding him like this, under the covers, almost made Newt fall asleep again. But he had other ideas in mind for his husband. Opening his eyes to dreamy crescents, he started placing tiny kisses on Minho's collarbone. He let his lips venture higher, tasting the silky, fine skin of Minho's throat. He allowed his tongue to graze skin once and gave a low hum. This was MUCH more addicting than just laying with Minho.

After a few seconds of Newt's encouragement, Minho stirred. A little, breathy noise of tiredness came from his lungs and his hand went from limp to deliberate in how it curled in Newt's T-shirt. "...angel?" he mumbled sleepily, eyelids fluttering to show beautiful, dark irises.

Newt paused in his kissing. "Hey," he murmured fondly.

"Hey." Minho smiled a lazy, easy smile that could send men and women alike to their knees. "You're awfully awake this early." He rubbed Newt's back in circles.

"I am," Newt agreed. "But only because I want something."

Slipping a hand under Newt's shirt, Minho massaged his back with probing fingertips. "What d'you want?"

Newt's answer came in a purr. "You."

"Me?" Minho repeated delightedly.

Newt hummed as Minho's fingers skimmed down the curve of his back and hip to stop at his thigh. His skin burned where Minho curled his fingers in the fabric of Newt's boxers. "Yeah," he confessed in an exhale of breath.

"Angel," Minho murmured, hand still teasing on Newt's thigh, "I'm already yours."

Newt lifted his chin up in silent invitation. A pleased noise left Minho's throat and he claimed Newt's lips with his own. It was a deep, numbing kiss, and all coherent thought flew out of Newt's mind. He was only aware of sheets on his skin, Minho's hand now gripping his thigh, and the sugary taste of Minho on his lips. Minho's mouth urged Newt's lips apart, sharing heated breaths. Newt breathed out, "yes," and Minho licked the word from his lips. Before he knew what was happening, Minho had rolled them over, pinning Newt beneath him. They were at an angle on the bed, Newt's toes barely hanging over the edge of the mattress. He didn't care.

Arching up into the kiss, Newt tangled his fingers deep in Minho's hair. He looped a leg around Minho's and canted his hips up off the mattress. Their stomachs brushed, hips pressing together, and Minho moaned. He slid a hand up Newt's side, pushing his oversized, blue tee up his body. Newt felt fingers exploring his chest and broke the kiss to whimper.

"Lie back, sweetheart," Minho whispered in Newt's ear, prompting shivers. "And take off your clothes."

Newt let out a nervous laugh, as Minho tugged darkly at Newt's waistband. "What if I don't want to?" he challenged.

Minho grinned a truly wicked grin. "Don't make me ask twice."

Newt didn't.


	7. Chapter 7

-DAY 7: Stay up late talking. Really catch up and check in with each other-

As much as Minho liked talking with Newt, he couldn't help but find this one absolutely ridiculous...at first.

-X-X-X-

"Newt, this is stupid."

"No, it's not. Come on, Minho..."

"Yes, it is and I'm not doing it."

"You are. Sit down."

"No."

"Min."

"UGH."

Reluctant and grudgingly, Minho tossed himself down onto the bed next to Newt. Immediately, he sat back against the pillows and crossed his arms like a scolded child. He really did find this whole thing stupid.

It was late at night. Belle was already asleep in her room down the hall and the view from between the window curtains was dark with night. But there were lamps on in the Newton's bedroom and soft, warm light on the walls. Minho normally loved nights like this: autumn nights that were chilly enough to make him hold Newt in the dark for warmth and whisper silly, lovestruck things to him so that he'd blush. Minho was such a horrid romantic.

However, on THAT particular night, those plans were cancelled. All because Newt had discovered a ghastly, addicting app to torture Minho with: Pinterest.

"Okay, so this is what it says to do..." Newt was reading off his iPhone, scrolling down with his thumb. The screen was reflected in his ashy-blue eyes.

Minho peered over Newt's shoulder at the screen contemptuously. "You do realize that you're letting an APP define what our relationship should be like, right?" he asked drily.

"No, I'm not," Newt argued. "I just wanted to try something, that's all."

"Of course."

"Minho, c'mon, just try it."

"What does it even say?"

Newt squinted at the words glowing from his phone. "It says to stay up late talking and catch up with each other," he read.

"Catch up?" Minho echoed dubiously. "We're married. We live together. What could we POSSIBLY have to catch up about?"

"I dunno. It's not like you see me every second of the day, you know. You're always at work, remember?" Newt gave Minho a withering look.

Minho bumped their shoulders together. "Not my fault."

"Listen, don't you want to try it?" Newt asked. He shrugged with one shoulder. "See if it works?"

Minho arched a brow. "Works?"

"You know, makes us closer."

Minho tugged at Newt's T-shirt sleeve; it was an oversized, black shirt that belonged to Minho and that Newt wore as pajamas with boxers. "I'm already close to you."

"Well, yeah, but still." Newt rested his head on Minho's shoulder and looked up at him. "I just...wanna talk to you, I guess."

Dammit, he was giving Minho that imploring-puppy look and God, he was just too shucking adorable. Minho sighed, long and conceding. "All riiiiiiight," he groaned dramatically, and Newt smiled. "I'll do it. But I won't like it."

"Thank you," Newt chirped, nosing at Minho's shoulder affectionately.

Minho shifted to a more comfortable position, bare shoulder against Newt's (Minho always slept shirtless; tonight, he just wore thin, blue pj bottoms). "Okay, then. What do you wanna talk about?"

Newt lifted his head from Minho's shoulder. "Oh. Um. What do YOU wanna talk about?" he asked instead.

"This is stupid," Minho deadpanned.

"No, you're just bad at sharing your feelings."

"Ugh. Can't we just make out instead?" Minho leaned over and kissed the curve of Newt's ear.

"Quit it!" Newt giggled, pulling his shoulder up to his ear to block Minho's next kiss. "Just say something! It's not that hard."

Huffing, Minho dropped his head back against the pillow he was leaning on. "Fine. I'll try." He glanced sideways at Newt for a long moment. Newt gazed back expectantly, eyebrows raised. This was going to suck so bad. "...hi."

An amused smile tugged up Newt's mouth. "Hi."

"What's..." Minho racked his brain for a good conversation-starter. "...your favorite...color?"

"Seriously?" Newt asked.

"Shut up. I can't think of anything else."

Newt shook his head pityingly. "Blue. Yours?"

Minho looked at Newt's sapphire eyes. "Blue."

"You can't steal my favorite color!" Newt accused, laughing.

"It was always my favorite color!" Minho argued. "You probably stole it from ME!"

"Oh really? Then why is it your favorite?"

"It's embarrassing."

"What do you mean?"

"I...well..." Minho rubbed the back of his neck. "It's the color of your eyes."

Newt's eyebrows flicked up in surprise. "Really? That's your reason?"

"Don't rub it in," Minho muttered.

Newt leaned up and placed a kiss on Minho's cheek. "You're adorable, Min," he said fondly.

Minho grunted noncommittally in reply, but his stomach tingled at Newt's kiss. Glancing at Newt again, he tried to actually come up with something meaningful to talk about. Shouldn't he be able to do this? Surely it couldn't be this hard for him to talk with someone he cared about; and of course he cared about Newt. Newt was his husband, and his best friend, and Minho loved him so much, it made him breathless. So he HAD to be able to say one meaningful thing right now. Just one thing.

"Are you still doing okay when I'm not here? I mean, with the Flare?"

Newt stared at him. Minho hurried on. "I'm not exactly here all the time," he said. "I wondered if you were still having trouble with it."

"Sometimes," Newt admitted, gazing down at his feet for a long moment. He never liked talking about his illness too much; the symptoms were treatable with medication, so he didn't notice it unless he had a particularly bad day. "I have good days and bad days."

"What's a bad day like?" Minho asked carefully.

Newt played with the sheets at his waist. "It's not terrible. I get dizzy and sometimes I see things. But it never lasts very long."

Narrowing his eyes, Minho tried to decide if he believed Newt or if Newt was just trying to reassure him. "So I guess you still can't drive very much then," he remarked.

"I can drive more than I could before," Newt replied. "But no, not very much." He offered an assuring smile. "I don't mind as much, now that I work from home with Sonya's help."

Minho had to return his smile, though sadder. "Okay then." He hated that a disease had done this to his husband. He wished there was something more he could do.

"What about you?" Newt asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"How's work for you? Are you still thinking about finding a new job?"

It was just like Newt to find the one sensitive topic to bring up. He knew Minho way too well. "I'm not sure," Minho replied, and absently rubbed one arm. "Sometimes I think I will and other times, I think I'll need to find somewhere new."

Newt looked confused; he knew how much Minho enjoyed his job. "Why?"

"We're not exactly rich," Minho chuckled ruefully. "Now we have Belle, and you can't work as often, not that I'm blaming you," he added quickly, and Newt leaned into his shoulder understandingly. "I really should look for something closer to Glade City, where there are more jobs to choose from."

"But you love teaching guitar," Newt protested gently.

Minho couldn't help it. He smiled widely. "I know. But it's not...enough, for us."

"If it's enough for you, it's enough for me," Newt declared. "And Belle already wants you to teach her more songs and music. You can't give it up."

"Maybe."

"Why're you so sure it won't work out?"

"Because I'm not making enough just teaching guitar," Minho answered. Slipping a hand under Newt's, he intertwined their fingers. "And I want to take care of you and Belle, more than I'm doing now."

Newt dropped his head onto Minho's shoulder again, looking at their joined hands. "Then find a side job or something," he suggested. "Don't give up something you love." Turning his face into Minho's neck, he placed a kiss there. "Or you'll regret it."

Minho nosed Newt's hair and breathed in that honey-sweet scent he loved. "Okay," he relented.

They sat quietly for several minutes. The night gathered steadily outside and Coal's pawsteps came softly from down in the hall. Minho thought he could hear Belle's quiet breaths as she slept. He stroked his thumb over Newt's knuckles and considered suggesting they go to sleep, when Newt suddenly gave a little laugh. "What's so funny?" Minho asked.

And Newt pointed to his iPhone on the bedside table. "You said it wouldn't work," he accused, eyes twinkling in amusement. "But it did."

Minho looked first at the phone, then at Newt. "...you shank."

"Love you too," Newt chirped triumphantly. Stretching up, he nipped at Minho's ear to make him squeak indignantly.

Minho rubbed at his ear and shot Newt a dark smirk. "You're in for it now, Newton," he warned wickedly.

"Bring it on, Park," Newt challenged.

His voice faltered when Minho twisted in bed and moved to straddle Newt's hips. Trapping Newt back against the headboard, Minho lazily carded a hand through that gorgeous blonde hair. "I'm not a Park anymore," he reminded Newt.

"What are you then?" Newt asked, smiling because he could guess the answer. His hands rested on Minho's sides.

Minho rubbed their noses together. "Yours."


	8. Chapter 8

-WARNING: you will be exposed to extreme fluffiness and flirting and Minewt. I'm terribly sorry for the excessive amount of fluff I stuffed into this one. God. I have such an addiction to this.

Anyhoo, this was very fun to write, and even though it was SUPPOSED to be more about an actual concert, it, um, yeah, it's just fluff. :)

Enjoy!-

-DAY 8: Go see a concert or show together-

Newt had Downton Abbey and English tea. Minho had running.

Oh, and they both had Fall Out Boy.

-X-X-X-

"This is the best day of my life."

Newt laughed out loud, after taking one look at Minho's bright, excited face as they waited in line. "Are you seriously this excited about this?" he asked in amusement.

"YES." Minho rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, peering over the heads of the people in front of him. "I can't believe they came to Glade City, because they never do, and I'm having such a fangirl moment right now, it's ridiculous."

"No, it's hilarious," Newt corrected him playfully. And it was. He couldn't remember seeing Minho so pumped over something Newt had gotten him.

You might be wondering what Newt got him. Well, Newt, through painstaking research and effort, managed to buy amazing tickets to the concert of Fall Out Boy. They hardly EVER came to Glade City. Newt knew as soon as he spotted the ad online that he had to get the tickets for his husband. Minho had recently become obsessed with Fall Out Boy's music, with Newt's help. He hummed it while he did dishes, learned acoustic versions on guitar, and even sang it in the shower. It was funny and cute to see Minho so happy over a band. So yeah, Newt got tickets and drove them up early to get the best spot right up front.

He was an awesome husband, he decided.

Plus, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see Fall Out Bot really bad too.

"Ugh, this line is so looooonnnnng," Minho groaned, stretching up on tiptoe to squint over people's heads again. After a failed attempt to see the front of the line, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets to pout.

"Relax," Newt assured him. "We're still way closer than all those people behind us."

"Yeah, that's exactly what THEY'RE saying about us," Minho pointed out, pointing at the crowd before them.

Newt snorted. "You're so impatient."

"You're so annoying."

"I can take my tickets back, then."

"I'm sorry, I love you."

"Damn right."

Minho barked a laugh and Newt's stomach fluttered at the sound. Pretending to check out the line again, he snuck a few glances at his husband from the corner of his eye. Wearing a maroon-colored jacket over a white tee, Minho looked soft and adorable, even with his broad shoulders straining the fabric just a bit. He also looked deadly sexy in dark, clingy jeans; how could he be cute and hot at the same time? It was not fair. Newt paled in comparison in his baggy, white sweatshirt.

Even in the warmer clothes, though, it was cold. Autumn nights were starting to settle in more and more lately. Newt pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and shivered. Waiting in line in the chilly evening air wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. He wished he'd taken his hoodie from the car. "Hey, Min?" he asked hesitantly.

Minho raised his eyebrows in question. "What?"

"I'm cold."

"I'm not going back to the car for you."

"I didn't say I wanted you to."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

Newt gave his sweetest smile. "Hold me?" he asked, nudging at the sidewalk with the toe of a black Converse shoe.

Minho took one look at the blonde's pouty, pleading expression. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, he offered one arm to Newt. "You're lucky I like you so much," he informed Newt wryly.

"Thank you!" Newt chirped, in too good of a mood to come up with a smart comeback. He scampered up to his husband and Minho snagged the sleeve of his sweatshirt to pull him in close.

Minho blinked as Newt unexpectedly tugged the zipper of his jacket open. "Hey, what're you—?" He broke off as Newt hugged him for warmth, arms now inside Minho's open jacket.

"It's warmer this way," Newt mumbled, burying his face in Minho's chest. Dear God, Minho simply radiated heat and there was a distracting ripple of muscle pressing into Newt from under his shirt. He sighed contentedly as the warmth soaked into his bones. He took a precious moment to thank Heaven above for the gift that was Minho Newton.

"You're like a little kid with a cold," Minho remarked playfully. He linked his hands together behind Newt's back, strong arms adding to the body heat they shared.

"Mmmm," Newt hummed in incoherent agreement. He curled his fingers in the back of Minho's shirt.

Jerking a little, Minho squeaked. "Shuck, your hands are freezing!"

"Duh. That's why I'm hugging you right now. I said I was cold."

"I didn't know it was that bad."

"It's not, really. I'll be fine."

Minho growled at Newt's stubbornness. "I should get you your hoodie," he muttered, guiding Newt as the line inched forward a couple steps.

"I'll be okay," Newt insisted.

"Then I should give you my jacket when we get in there." Minho nuzzled Newt's soft, golden hair. "A good husband would give you his jacket."

"A good husband wouldn't freeze to death for me," Newt deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever." Placing a kiss on the top of Newt's head, Minho prompted the blonde to look up at him. Smiling crookedly, Minho massaged little circles into Newt's back. "Love you, angel."

Newt's heart melted between them and seeped onto the pavement in a puddle. He stretched up and stole a kiss from Minho's lips. "I love you, too."

Waiting in line suddenly seemed much more bearable.

That didn't mean that Newt didn't freak out like a bloody girl when they reached the FRONT. LIKE, THE FRONT OF THE LINE TO SEE FALL OUT BOY OH MY GOD. He was just glad he wasn't the only one having a freakout session; Minho practically plowed a couple over in his attempt to get to the stage.

The pair wandered inside the fenced-in area for a bit to find somewhere to stand. The stage at Glade City was relatively small, but nice enough. It was big, steely, and lit up like Christmas. There were vendors selling T-shirts advertising the band and places to buy food and drinks. Then there were the places in front of the stage. Originally, Newt had hoped to get a place right up front. But after seeing how tightly packed that mob was going to be, he decided against it. Minho didn't mind that they chose a spot toward the back, where clusters of teenagers and adults alike were gathering. He dropped a quick kiss on Newt's cheek and, being the sappy sweetheart he was, he ran back to the car to get Newt his hoodie.

They still had quite a bit of time before the concert started anyway. Newt sipped Pepsi from a bottle and waited as the sun sank lower and stained the sky dusky purple.

-X-X-X-

Minho made it back just in time.

"Newt!"

At the familiar call, Newt glanced around. Minho appeared, weaving between people with a pale blue hoodie tucked under his arm. He swore when he tripped over someone's ankle and had to hop to regain his footing. The person unwisely shot him a dirty look and he shot one right back. By the time he made it to Newt, he was breathless. "Here," he managed, holding out the hoodie. "Got it."

"Thanks, Minho." Newt touched Minho's shoulder in gratitude before shrugging into his hoodie. It was one of his warmer, thick ones. Sighing in relief, he snuggled into it like it was a favorite blanket. "This is much better."

"You're so lucky you have me," Minho commented loftily.

"Hey, YOU'RE the lucky one," Newt returned. "I got us the tickets to this thing."

"Oh, right."

"Uh-huh." Newt turned his attention back to the stage, a slight tilt to his lips.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Minho teased, ruffling Newt's hair.

Newt's grin broadened and he ducked away from Minho. His blue eyes flashed challengingly. "Make me," he dared.

"You little—" Moving fast, Minho grabbed Newt by the waist and yanked him over. Laughing, Newt twisted to get away, but Minho pressed the blonde to his chest. "Are you LAUGHING at me now?"

Hands planted on Minho's shoulders, Newt giggled stupidly, silly with Minho's presence. "Maybe."

"Oh, you're really in for it now." Minho's hands climbed up Newt's back.

Sparks ignited under Newt's skin and he hooked his fingers around the back of Minho's neck. He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the tempting, soft curve of Minho's mouth. "Shut up and bloody kiss me," he said huskily.

Minho brushed their noses together. "I love it when you go all British on me," he murmured, before connecting their smiles.

Newt sighed into Minho's mouth, parting his lips at the first touch of Minho's tongue. Minho's hair was black velvet between his fingers and Minho's taste was honey on his lips. A hand snuck into his back pocket, reeling their hips together in an almost-too-intimate touch. Because they were in public, Newt wouldn't let it last too long. But just before he pulled back, he nipped at Minho's upper lip. He heard the soft whimper that came and fought hard not to smile.

Their foreheads touched. Minho opened dazed, dark eyes and looked over his angel. "You," he whispered softly, "are all mine tonight, Isaac Newton."

"Tonight," Newt agreed, with a pull at Minho's hair at the back of his head. "And every other night."

If looks could touch, Minho was touching Newt all over. His very attitude screamed, take me home with you.

Shuck, did Newt love being married.

Sadly, their intimate looks and stolen touches were interrupted by Fall Out Boy.

Not that they were complaining.

Much.


	9. Chapter 9

Another chapter! This one was cute, but short. More is on the way, though! ;)-

-DAY 9: Take turns photographing each other-

Well, Newt had already taken pictures of Minho for Sonya's gallery shop, Framed.

So it was Minho's turn.

-X-X-X-

"Pose."

"Huh?" Turning from where he was stretched rather comically to put away a plate, Newt peered at Minho over his shoulder. There was a telltale flash and Newt groaned, dropping his hands from the open cabinet. "Minho, did you really just take a picture of me?" he asked.

Minho examined the new picture on his phone screen proudly. "Yep!" He snickered at Newt's dumb expression in the picture. "Now, really, sweetheart, you could've done better in this one."

"Shut it." Newt took another plate from the clean stack beside the sink. "I wasn't prepared for you to be taking random pictures of me."

"Get ready now, cuz here's another." Minho quickly snapped another picture, this one catching Newt's annoyed glare in it. "Oh man," Minho chortled, thumbing through his phone's camera roll. "These are great."

"Are you gonna stop playing around and help?" Newt asked, placing more plates in their places in the cabinet.

"Can't." Minho kept scrolling. Oh yeah, some of these were priceless. Especially that one of Newt's weird, sleeping face. "I've been on a roll all week."

Newt gaped at Minho incredulously. "You've been taking pictures of me ALL WEEK?"

"Yes." Grinning, Minho leaned back on the counter and continued his examination of his pictures. Oh yes, that one of Newt in Minho's track tee was gonna be his new wallpaper. He had a thing for Newt wearing his clothes when he was cold.

Newt narrowed his eyes at Minho suspiciously. "Let me see," he said.

Immediately, Minho pulled his phone defensively to his stomach. "No."

A wicked glint entered Newt's eyes then and he abandoned the plates by the sink. "Minho," he warned.

"Get away from me." Minho edged back along the counter. Newt was a devilish angel in his red sweater and those skinny jeans. Nervous giddiness swam in Minho's stomach.

A smirk curled the corners of Newt's lips up. "You're giving me that phone," he said darkly.

"Yeah, right. Right after you announce that you're actually straight."

"I'll take it from you."

"You can try."

"Min," Newt purred in his best, silken voice, "give me your phone."

Minho pointed at him threateningly. "Stop it. Stop using that British accent on me."

"Fine," Newt decided lightly, and he even started to turn away. His fingers traced the edge of the counter. "I don't need to."

With that, he tackled Minho. "Newt!" Minho yelped, and then laughed as Newt went straight for the phone in his grasp. "Let go of my phone!"

"Never!" They fought like children, twisting and turning to get ahold of the precious iPhone. Minho was obviously fighting to keep his phone, because who wouldn't be? But he was also grinning from ear to ear at Newt's body pressing into his, fingers prying at Minho's, and his crystal laughter in Minho's ears. They ended up tangled with Newt's back to Minho's chest, Minho's arms around him as he held desperately to his phone in Newt's grip. "Newt, I'm not kidding. I will murder you in your sleep tonight."

"You can try!" Newt crowed, working on weakening Minho's hold.

Minho's fingers started to ache and he muttered, "dammit, Newt..." In a last effort, he stuck one hand into the crook of Newt's neck. Snorting loudly, Newt spun in Minho's arms to escape the tickling. They faced each other, phone and tangled fingers trapped between their chests and brilliant smiles.

"Let go," Minho ordered.

Newt sniggered. "You're cute when you try to be mad at me."

"Newt."

"Min."

After a second, Minho chuckled, shaking his head. Without releasing his phone, he touched his forehead to Newt's. "You're such an annoying...adorable, little shank," he muttered.

"I can't tell if that's an insult or not," Newt murmured, and tipped his chin up until their lips met.

Minho purred blissfully and they kissed, soft and deep.

For about two seconds, because dancing, fairy footsteps came prancing in from the living room. Then there was a bright, tinkling-bell voice: "Daddy! Dad! Whatcha—EWWW!"

Minho and Newt sprang apart, both blushing at having been caught. Hands on her hips and denim skirt waving, Belle mock-scowled up at her parents. Her nose was wrinkled and those sparky green eyes challenged the couple. "Were you guys just KISSING?" she demanded, as though "kissing" was considered murder to young children.

"U—um," Newt stammered, pulling at the hem of his sweater.

"Yes, yes, we were." Minho smiled widely and looped an arm around Newt's shoulders. "Because Daddy just loves me so much."

"Ewwww!" Belle stuck her tongue out. "Parents're only s'posed to kiss in PRIVATE, dummies!"

Minho jokingly leaned over and tousled Newt's hair with one hand. "Yeah, yeah, you're probably right," he admitted. "Tell Daddy to keep his hands to himself next time." Newt muttered something indignant and behind Minho's back, he gave a chastising tug to Minho's back pocket.

"Yeah!" Belle jabbed a finger at Newt scoldingly. She looked hilarious, yelling at him in her little red shirt with a white heart stamped on the front. But she soon grew tired of that and turned a curious eye on something else. "What's that?" she asked, pointing.

Minho followed her gaze and saw that she was talking about the phone in his hands. "This?" he asked, holding it up, and she nodded. "It's my phone. I was taking tons of funny pictures of Daddy on it."

Bouncing up and down, Belle broke into a huge grin. "I wanna see!" she declared.

Newt's jaw dropped and Minho returned her grin, only his was more evil. "Oh, I don't think—" Newt tried.

"C'mere, Belle, I'll show you!" Minho interrupted eagerly. He knelt down in front of his daughter before Newt could protest again. Belle skipped over and leaned forward with both hands on one of his bent knees. "C'mon, Newt," Minho urged, glancing up innocently. "Don't you wanna see your beautiful pictures too?"

There was a silence and then a very long sigh. Newt bent down next to Minho, faint dread in his face as he watched Minho enter his passcode. "These better not be embarrassing," he muttered.

"Trust me, okay?" Minho replied, just as a picture of Newt sleeping on the couch lit up on the screen.

Instantly, Belle was giggling. "Daddy, you look so weird!" she exclaimed. Newt's face in the picture was pretty awful; he was asleep with cheek on his arm, squishing one half of his face up.

Newt's ears turned pink as Minho nudged his side with an elbow. "Wait; there's more," he said evilly, and flicked to the next picture.

"HA!" Belle snorted loudly, because in this picture, Newt was in the middle of burning his mouth on too-hot coffee, face screwed up hysterically.

"I love this one!" Minho exclaimed.

Newt groaned and dragged a hand over his face.

And so, it went on. Minho continued to scroll through his camera roll and Bell's laughter lit up the room with every one. She leaned against his shoulder, bouncing on the balls of her feet enthusiastically. Newt was too busy being mortified to notice much. The pictures actually got worse as they went on. Newt with atrocious bedhead and bags under his eyes. Newt in the middle of scowling at Minho's camera while he brushed his teeth. Newt sticking his tongue out, Newt singing with a brush as a microphone, Newt cuddling with their kitten, Coal. There was even one of Newt accidentally spraying himself in the face while attempting to do dishes at the sink. Minho really had been on a roll.

"Awwww, I like that one!" Belle cheered, pointing a tiny finger. "That's the sweater I got you for Christmas!"

Newt peeked out from between his fingers. "Oh, god..."

Newt was wearing a neon-green sweater in this one, with freaking Rudolf prancing across the front.

Minho grinned triumphantly. "I'd stop, angel, but this is great," he said to Newt. Without thinking, he scrolled again.

"MINHO!" Newt suddenly slapped his hands over Minho's phone at the same time Minho yelped (he also practically GRABBED Belle's face to cover her eyes). He'd forgotten about THAT picture...the one he'd secretly taken after Newt had gotten out of the shower, towel not quite folded around him yet... Minho probably should've deleted that one before now. He grimaced at Newt as Belle squawked and pried at the fingers over her eyes. "Sorry," he whispered.

Newt was blushing furiously now. "Delete it," he hissed.

"But you're so sexy in it," Minho protested, quiet in Newt's ear so that Belle wouldn't hear.

"Too bad," Newt quipped.

Sighing, Minho deleted the picture. Precious memories lost. Oh well. "Okay, Belle, you can look now," he said, uncovering Belle's face.

She spat out a strand of hair and frowned up at him. "Why couldn't I see the picture?" she complained, big eyes flitting between her fathers.

Newt and Minho glanced at each other. Newt raised his eyebrows: YOU deal with this one. Muttering, "shuck-face," Minho thought hastily for an answer. He wasn't very good at coming up with stuff on the spot, but he thought he did pretty well.

"It was a picture Daddy took of that really boring show, Downton Abbey."

Belle's response: "Ew, I hate that show!"

Newt's response: punching Minho in the shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

-Short(again), but still fluffy! Thank you for the amazing reviews and I hope you enjoy this little chapter! :)-

-DAY 10: Take a scenic road trip, and sing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs-

Newt was 98% sure he went deaf after that day.

-X-X-X-

"TONIGHT, WE ARE VICTORIOUS! CHAMPAGNE POURING OVER US! ALL MY FRIENDS WERE GLORIOUS! TONIGHT WE ARE VICTORRRIIIOUUUSS!"

Newt was two seconds from banging his head off the window. They'd been in this car, on the dusty road, for half an hour. They were on their way to the scenic, Haven Park, outside Glade City. It was quite out of the way for the little family. So Newt was already dreading the long car ride and cramped muscles. Now, he also had the added bonus of his husband and his daughter singing at the top of their lungs. And it was all Minho's fault. He'd turned on the radio and his new favorite song, Victorious, by Panic! At the Disco had come on. So OF COURSE, he had to sing. And every time Minho sang, Belle sang too.

Newt didn't know how long he could survive this trip.

"This is my jam!" Belle cheered from the backseat. She pumped her fists in the air, auburn pigtails bouncing. She was smiling so widely, it looked like it physically hurt.

"This is the jam of all jams!" Minho declared from the driver's seat. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, he returned his daughter's smile. The sunlit forest outside gave him a great backdrop, with his perfect, spiked hair and black T-shirt.

"Let's sing it together again!" Belle exclaimed. Minho and she played this game where they sang together, back and forth.

Chuckling, Minho turned the radio up a little. "Okay, you start."

"Okay!" Humming the music to herself while she waited for the singing to start, Belle swung her legs to the beat. Then she took a breath and Newt mentally prepared himself. "DOUBLE BUBBLE DISCO QUEEN!"

"HEADED TO THE GUILLOTINE!"

"SKIN AS COOL AS STEVE MCQUEEN!"

"LET ME BE YOUR KILLER KING!"

Newt couldn't hold back; he groaned in despair and leaned his head against the window. "I'm not going to survive this," he muttered, and rubbed at his temple with three fingers.

While Belle continued to sing excitedly in the backseat, Minho glanced over at Newt in amusement. "Aw, c'mon, Newt," he urged. "Try to have some fun. Belle loves this song."

"Well, I'm starting to hate it," Newt replied bitterly.

Minho pouted. "I thought you liked it when I sing."

Newt rolled his eyes. Leave it to Minho to bring that up. "Yeah, but only when—" He stopped, with a meaningful look tossed back at Belle. Then he bent across the car a bit and lowered his voice. "Only when you're not fooling around, like, in—"

"In the shower," Minho interrupted deviously. He shot Newt a lethal smirk. "Together..." Leaving a hand on the steering wheel, he rested the other on Newt's knee.

"Minho," Newt warned.

"Remember the last time you took a shower with me?"

"Stop it."

"We're taking one together once we get back."

Newt growled scoldingly. He batted Minho's hand, but let it stay on his knee. "Idiot," he muttered.

"Don't be like that." Leaning over, Minho placed a quick kiss on Newt's cheek.

"You're impossible," Newt replied, fighting the smile that wanted to rise at the kiss. He shook his head in mock pity at Minho's teasing.

Minho's mouth tilted up into a grin. "Want me to sing to you now?" he asked. "Without fooling around with Belle?"

Newt scoffed. "You can't go a second without messing around and singing like a crazy person."

"Watch me."

"...fine. Go for it."

Rubbing his thumb on Newt's knee, Minho looked back out the windows of the car. Newt waited, warmth beginning to pool inside of him. The way Minho sang with Belle was very different from the way he sang to Newt. It was intoxicating. Minho just didn't like singing seriously in front of other people. Finding a short phrase of the song he liked, Minho sang. There was a hint of something in his voice that was only for Newt:

"My touch

Is black and poisonous,

And nothing like my punch-

Drunk kiss, I know you need it,

Do you feel it? Drink the water,

Drink the wine..."

Newt found himself gaping in silence. Even Belle had stopped her cheering from the back. Minho's voice was glorious when he sang, low and pristine. The car was quiet except for the hum of the radio. Minho was blushing a little. Absently, he cleared his throat. "So how was that?" he asked.

"AWESOME!" Belle yelled, and threw her hands up in the air again.

Newt smiled fondly and took Minho's hand in his, twining their fingers. "What she said," he murmured, lifting their hands and kissing Minho's knuckles. Minho's blush deepened adorably and he couldn't even look over at Newt.

Maybe this road trip wouldn't be so bad after all.


	11. Chapter 11

Here's your new chapter! Thank you again for the marvelous reviews! This has cuddling and awesomeness and Minho being sexy, and yeah. Enjoy!-

-DAY 11: Cuddle up on the couch, and watch a romantic film or TV show together-

Minho could never be serious, even when Newt was crying over a movie. Well, maybe he COULD be, just this once.

-X-X-X-

"Okay, I got this, I got this..." Minho was whispering to himself, standing in Belle's room, blue walls darkened by dusk. He gazed at her carefully in the dimness, waiting for any movement. Belle was a curled-up ball of red hair and polka-dot pj's in bed, the pale covers up around her neck. Her lashes twitched softly as she dreamed, slow breaths tickling the air. She'd just fallen asleep. It was eight-thirty. A miracle.

Minho was overly proud of himself for his good work. Thanks to his amazing lullaby skills, he'd gotten Annabelle asleep in two minutes. Once she was out, she was OUT for the night. Which meant that he had the rest of the night with Newt and a movie he'd gotten earlier today. He snickered as he thought of it. He loved getting—Oh, wait, Belle was rolling over in bed. What if she heard him? As quickly and quietly as possible, he backed out of the room and shut the door behind him. Wincing at the slight click it made, he paused in the hall to listen. Nothing. She wasn't awake. Thank God.

Now. Where was he? Oh yes, his movie. Minho had went out to Walmart and bought The Vow. It was the most romantic, tragic, slightly-funny movie he'd ever heard of. He was dreading watching it because 1. he'd already seen it before and 2. he may be a gigantic cheeseball around Newt, but he hated watching OTHER people be cheeseballs on TV.

Anyway. He only bought this movie for a few select reasons: firstly, that Newt had such a soft spot for romance movies, it was ridiculous. Minho couldn't count the number of times he was forced to watch Titanic or It's Complicated, just because they were full of comedy and romance and all that gushy stuff. Second reason: romance movies turned Newt into the human equivalent of a puppy. He got all melty and cute, snuggling up next to Minho with those sapphire eyes driving Minho mad. Yes, he was looking forward to that. And thirdly, this movie was bound to make Newt cry.

Why did Minho want to make Newt cry over a film? He just liked to mess with him sometimes. Plus, Newt got even more puppy-like when he cried, and he always thanked Minho for picking the movie when it was over.

Minho was such a jerk, secretly manipulating Newt like this. But he loved it, and it was all for Newt anyway, so what the hell? Rubbing his palms together like a conspirator, he hurried into his room to change. Once in blue-striped boxers and a black tee (basically, his pj's, minus the shirt), he snagged the DVD off the bedside table and headed down the hall.

The living room was lit in lamplight glowing from the coffee tables. The screen of the TV was neon blue, waiting for the movie. Minho had asked Newt to get it ready earlier and to wait for him on the couch while he got the DVD. But now, looking at the empty couch, he saw that Newt wasn't even in the room. "Newt?" he called uncertainly. "You better not be hiding from me."

Suddenly, arms snaked around his waist from behind and a lean body pressed up against his back. Minho only jerked once, gasping. "Boo," a smooth, musical voice murmured to him and he recognized Newt's British accent.

"Dammit, Newt," Minho muttered, relaxing again.

A light giggle and lips grazing the side of his neck. "Did I scare you?"

"No."

"You're a bad liar, Minho."

Minho hummed noncommittally in response, DVD in one hand and the other tracing Newt's fingers laced on his stomach. He felt a kiss placed tenderly beneath his ear and broke into a grin. "Is that my surprise?" Newt asked, chin on Minho's shoulder now.

Minho flipped the box around so that Newt couldn't see it. "Maybe," he replied. "It's a movie."

"Well, I knew THAT." Newt stretched onto his toes to see better over Minho's shoulder. "What kind of movie?"

"Horrible, disgusting, tragic romance."

"I love those!"

There was evident sarcasm in that statement, making Minho laugh. "I know you do. That's why I got it."

"Hmmm." Thoughtfully, Newt nuzzled Minho's neck, prompting Minho to tilt his head to the side with a sigh. Newt traced his nose up Minho's neck and whispered in his ear, "are you sure you didn't get it for something else?" As he said it, he slid his hands down suggestively to rest very low on Minho's hips.

On second thought, forget the plan, Minho was taking Newt to bed right now. Then he snapped at his crazed, stupid mind for being so easily reeled in by Newt. He still wanted to watch the movie (well, sort of) and he still wanted to see Newt's reaction. He could do...other things with Newt later. "I'm sure," he answered firmly, and Newt groaned in despair. A flash of smugness made Minho snarky. "Sorry, baby, I know you wanted your hands on me tonight."

"I might still get my hands on you, so watch it," Newt quipped, sneaking a hand onto Minho's backside and curling his fingers in Minho's boxers. Minho didn't have time to shove Newt against a wall because the blonde had already slipped away across the room. "Now, put in the movie already and get over here." Falling onto the couch like a prince, Newt lazily sprawled out with a foot on the coffee table in the middle of the room. He wore only a pair of briefs; well, at least, Minho thought he did. It was hard to tell, thanks to the giant, red T-shirt he wore. That shirt had KEEP CALM AND PLAY GUITAR printed in white across it and had been a present to Minho from his mother. However, his mother got it way too big and it didn't even fit Minho. On, Newt it dropped to mid-thigh.

It was painfully cute and hot at the same time.

Minho raised an eyebrow at Newt's tone as he knelt beside the TV. "It's not very nice to order your husband around, you know."

"You know you love it."

"Do not."

"I can name twenty times you've SAID you loved it."

"Saying that while in bed with you doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"I was momentarily blinded by your beauty at the time."

Newt scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere." Then he noticed Minho inserting the disc into the DVD player. Curiosity got the better of him. "What movie'd you get?" he asked, sitting up straighter.

"Not telling," Minho replied. "You gotta wait."

"Why?" Newt asked indignantly.

"Cuz it's a surprise." Smiling teasingly, Minho sauntered over to the couch and sat himself down next to Newt. As he picked up the remote from a couch cushion, Newt scooted over and kissed his cheek. There weren't any words needed for the gesture of affection. Minho's lips tilted up into a smile and he held out an arm invitingly. "C'mere."

Newt bit his lip and obediently hopped across the couch to Minho's side. Curling himself up against his husband, he rested a hand on Minho's chest and sighed contentedly. Minho rubbed Newt's shoulder once, then dropped his hand to Newt's waist. With Newt whispering, "love you, Min," against his collarbone, he pointed the remote at the TV and pressed PLAY.

-X-X-X-

Well, the end credits were rolling up the screen and Newt was a mess. He'd started sniffling at the part where the couple in the movie decided to separate, because the poor girl couldn't remember her husband at all. Then, at the end, he'd looked a little happier once they were together again, sort of. And at the very end, as the couple walked down the sidewalk together, he promptly stuck his face in Minho's chest and cried. Another successful movie night.

Minho patted Newt's head soothingly with the hand that wasn't holding the blonde close. "Hey, it's all right, sweetheart," he hushed. "They ended up working it out."

"That w—was an a—awful m—movie," Newt whimpered in reply, muffled from Minho's T-shirt.

"What do you mean? I thought it was pretty good and normally I hate these movies."

"It was s—so sad w—when she f—forgot him."

"But they end up together again."

"She s—still doesn't r—remember though."

Letting out a resigned breath, Minho held Newt closer. Sometimes, Newt was way too soft-hearted for the simplest things, like movies. He ran his fingers through the disheveled mess of Newt's hair. "C'mon, angel, don't cry," he cooed. "It's just a movie. Based on a true story, but still." Newt sniffed tearfully and Minho rubbed his back in circles. "It's okay, love. My darling. Don't cry..."

Newt finally lifted his head, pulling himself together enough to look more normal. He rubbed at his tearstained cheek with a hand. "What if...?"

Minho sent him a withering look. "Don't even ask 'what if that happened to us.' It was just a movie."

"Based on a true story," Newt reminded him flatly.

"Not OUR story," Minho protested. He thumbed a stray tear from Newt's cheekbone, cradling his face. "Newt, I would never forget you. And if I did, I think you'd be so ticked at me, you'd beat me up until I remembered." A half-smile pulled up his lips.

Newt gave a little laugh. "Yeah, I guess," he admitted.

"And even if I didn't remember, I'd just fall in love with you all over again." Minho used his hand on Newt's jaw to tip the blonde's chin up so that he could admire the mussed golden hair and ivory skin. "How could I resist someone like you?" he asked playfully.

"Okay, okay." Newt slid a hand over his face to remove the last traces of crying. "You got me there. I'm done crying like a bloody girl."

Minho smirked. "You look cute when you cry over cheesy movies."

"Very funny, Minho."

"I try." Leaning in, Minho pecked Newt's lips sweetly. He couldn't take how those big blue eyes gazed up at him in return. He kissed Newt again, just long enough for Newt to make a sound of content against his mouth. "Come to bed, angel," he murmured.

Newt gave Minho a wry glance. "To sleep or...?" he trailed off mischievously.

Minho replied with a wicked smirk, hooking his arms under Newt's knees and back, and scooping the blonde up off the couch. Standing up, he lifted Newt into his arms, bridal-style, and Newt squeaked. Hands at Minho's neck, he shivered as Minho nosed at his hair. "Let me show you why I won't forget you so easily," Minho murmured huskily.

Newt smiled and let Minho carry him from the room.

Another successful movie night, indeed.


	12. Chapter 12

Guess what, more Minewt! I am way too addicted and I really don't care! Read and enjoy the fluff! :D-

-DAY 12: Do one spontaneous thing for the other (slightly modified cuz I didn't feel like writing the rest of the challenge)-

Newt was the best husband in the world.

-X-X-X-

It was late, kids were wild, and Minho was tired. Just another day at the music shop.

The music store Minho worked and taught at was a quaint little building in between neat houses and the beginnings of Glade City. If you thought about it, it was a perfect place to work: not too far away to drive, an enjoyable atmosphere of orangish walls and steel strings, and working with kids. In reality, it could easily turn into Hell.

It all started when Ryan Harding walked through the double glass doors. He was this short kid with straw-colored hair and a baggy T-shirt. Maybe eight years old. At first glance, he seemed like a perfectly normal young boy. But as soon as his mother explained that he would be taking guitar lessons, he turned into the Devil. "You aren't playing this right," he would snap, to his TEACHER, "this is too wrong, it doesn't sound right, let ME try..."

The nagging continued:

This is boring. This is stupid. I wanna go home. Why do you get the nice guitar? How come I have this weird one? What happens if I cut the strings? CAN I cut the strings?

On and on and on.

Minho was at the point of debating which would kill him faster: bashing himself in the head with the guitar, or listening to more of this kid. The listening was a slow, excruciating torture. Sitting on a wooden stool at the lessons corner of the shop, a boy squealing that his fingers hurt from the strings, Minho was ready for death. There was no way he would survive much longer. Really, he was half-dozing by now, tuning out Ryan's endless chatter. He had an elbow propped on his guitar and his chin on his hand. His free fingers rubbed idly along the instrument's smooth curve. Newt had bought the guitar for him. (So no, brat, you could NOT cut the strings) Minho tried not to think about Newt though; it was hard enough to get through the day without dreaming about the beautiful blonde waiting for him at home.

"I wanna go home," Minho muttered, too low for Ryan to hear in the midst of his childish tirade.

"Don't we all?" The voice of Miranda, the fair-haired woman who ran the shop, came suddenly from behind. She appeared at Minho's side with a sympathetic smile and blue questioning eyes. "Tired?"

Minho sighed, dragging a hand over his face. "God," he mumbled, muffled in his palm.

"That bad?" Miranda asked, quietly so that Ryan (now fiddling with his guitar and complaining to another customer about its sound) wouldn't hear.

"It may be the worst day of my life." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Minho blew out a rough breath.

She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I feel for you, Minho."

"You're the only one who does."

"Mmmm I dunno about that." She said it in a light voice, like she knew a secret. The raised-eyebrows look she gave him only increased the effect.

Minho twisted in his seat to glance up at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Smile widening into a grin, Miranda straightened and pointed at the back door. It led back to a back room for the employees, complete with a table, chairs, and mini fridge for lunches. "Take a break," she suggested. "It looks like you need it, anyway."

Not knowing what this was about, Minho hesitated. "But what about—?"

"I'll deal with him," she cut him off, bobbing her head toward Ryan. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can handle him for a while."

There were no other protests to be made. "Thanks, Miranda," Minho exhaled in relief. Standing, he placed his guitar carefully in its open case on the floor. Then he practically jogged across the store to get to that back room. He was already imagining sneaking a nap on the worn couch at the back or maybe finding something cold to drink in the fridge. However, those plans never happened.

As soon as he opened the door, a pair of hands took the front of his shirt and dragged him inside. Minho's eyes widened. "Whoa, who're y—?" He broke off at the familiar sight of dark blue eyes and blonde hair, charmingly ruffled.

"Hey, beautiful," Newt greeted lowly, leaning up to place a lingering kiss on Minho's mouth. "Tired?"

Minho was taken off-guard by the sight of Newt here at work. "Yeah," he answered slowly. "But, uh...Newt? What're you doing here?"

"Came to see you," Newt explained, massaging little circles into Minho's shoulders. "Don't worry, I can't stay all day. I'll be heading back home soon to get Belle off the bus."

"But you did come to see me?"

"Yeah. And I brought you food, cuz I know you're hungry and sick of working with toddlers."

"...is there a special reason for this?"

"No. I just wanted to do something for you, I guess."

"I love you," Minho declared, and cupped Newt's face to kiss him again. Newt grinned against Minho's lips before returning the kiss, their lips fitting together lazily. It was Newt who pulled away first, tipping his forehead into Minho's as though to say, "behave." Minho slung his fingers on Newt's hoodie pocket, caught between the tempting smell of food and the desire to put his husband up against the wall.

Peering over Newt's shoulder, Minho took one look at the steaming plate of food and the bottled iced tea next to it, and whimpered in relief. "You are amazing," he stated. Newt blushed as Minho pecked his nose. "I'm serious. You are amazing, and a freaking awesome cook, and I can't wait to come home to you tonight."

"I'll be waiting," Newt replied softly, a snarky tilt to his lips. "Any other wishes, your Highness?"

Minho thought. "Uhhhhhh..."

"I'm kidding."

Minho pouted and Newt only laughed. Running his fingers through Minho's hair, he sighed in bliss. "I gotta get going," he murmured. "But I'll see you later, all right?"

Minho had to smile. "Definitely."

Newt touched their lips together one last time and whispered, "love you, Minho." Then he was gone, slipping out the door in a flash of golden hair and porcelain skin. It was like an angel has just flown from the room.

Minho was still smiling stupidly at an empty room.

He could barely hear the sounds of Ryan's complaints anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

-Here we are, another chapter! This one is full of fluff and teasing and Thanksgiving! I hope you like it :) Feel free to leave a review; they never fail to make me smile and some of your requests may show up in future chapters... ;)-

-DAY 13: Send each other compliments throughout the day. The sexier, the better-

Well, to Minho, this translated to shameless flirting in the middle of a family gathering for Thanksgiving. Interesting, to say the least.

-X-X-X-

It became a sort of game. The fact that it happened in a public setting only made it more challenging to win. Newt didn't know exactly how the game had started, but he definitely wasn't about to lose to Minho. The game was this: flirt discreetly (or not so discreetly) until someone gave in. The person with the last compliment or risky remark won.

They were acting like a couple of teenagers.

Newt knew he was at a disadvantage, being the shyer one of the two and having them doing this at Thanksgiving. But he was still determined to beat Minho. His goal today was make Minho so crazy, he'd drag Newt off somewhere to kiss him senseless. Just because he wanted to brag about winning, of course. It had nothing to do with Minho kissing him. He had more control than that. (He hoped)

Anyway. The game had already begun.

Dinner was set and the Park's were all circling the dark wood dining table. There was an array of tempting food all around the table and people were already exclaiming over how good it was. A buzz of conversation floated up to the ceiling and back again. Newt couldn't wait to eat. He and Minho always had two Thanksgiving's every year: one at the Park's and one at the Newton's. Which meant twice the food. Newt was decidedly happy.

Until he felt someone lean over from his right and a low voice murmured in his ear. "Hey."

"Hey," Newt replied shortly, pointedly keeping is gaze fixed on his plate. Looking at Minho was pretty much giving in; one couldn't keep their sanity when faced with that kind of beauty.

"Can't wait to eat," Minho remarked casually.

"Me neither."

"As expected."

Newt gave Minho a flat look then. He came face-to-face with a sharp, attractive face and eyes like dark cocoa. There was a hint of a smirky curve to Minho's lips. "Are you calling me fat?" Newt asked lightly, feigning offense.

Minho chuckled, a low, rippling sound. Leaning over, he made Newt stiffen with a brush of lips over his ear. "On the contrary," he murmured, "I'd love to get my hands on that beautiful body of yours."

Oh, damn.

Newt forced his heartbeat to stay relatively slow and rolled his eyes. "You'll have to wait a long time for that," he quipped.

Minho had to pause to say something to his cousin, Marcus, who sat across from him. The conversation still swelled around them, despite their own private talking. Then he turned his attention back to Newt. "That's what you think," he scoffed and placed a chaste kiss on Newt's cheek. Despite the innocence of the gesture, it felt like it was hiding a darker meaning.

Keep it up, Newt thought cockily, I'll get you back soon. But on the outside, aware of the people around them, he smiled sweetly at Minho's kiss. Such a sweet thing revenge could be sometimes. Carefully, he caught some mashed potatoes on his fork and watched the surrounding table as he ate. None of them seemed to suspect what he was doing with Minho. Mrs. Park was laughing giddily over a joke her husband had told, eyes bright and ebony hair waving. Jackie, a younger cousin, was busy arguing with her brother, Alex, over who should get more food first. Marcus was talking to Minho again, something about guitars. His thick fingers gestured above his plate and his bald head gleamed under the crystal chandelier. His voice was loud enough to boom like thunder over everyone else's. Another normal Thanksgiving at the Park's.

Newt snuck a couple glances at Minho too. He was waiting to see if Minho would let his guard down. Minho was busy telling a story about a kid who had driven him nuts during guitar lessons the other day. Newt let his half-lidded gaze travel over him. As perfect as always: spiked, black hair and olive skin, contrasting marvelously with his pale blue shirt. Newt narrowed his eyes at the buttons undone at Minho's collar and suspected that he'd done it on purpose to show off to Newt. Even the way Minho moved was flirtatious; leaning his elbows on the table just right to show off the sleek muscle of his biceps, then glancing over at Newt knowingly. That shank.

Well, Newt could play that way too. He went back to surveying the table around him, listening with one ear to what Minho was saying to Marcus. "So, this kid, okay, he won't stop banging on the guitar like it's a drum or something and I'm trying to explain to him that we don't do that. But you know kids, they never listen. So next thing I know, he's grabbing scissors, from, like, his pocket or something, and..."

Newt smiled to himself. This should be a good time. As discreetly as possible, he slipped a hand under the table.

"...he starts going straight for the guitars. The good ones, on display, not the practice ones. I'm like, if this kid cuts any of those strings I'm gonna—Ah—um." Minho stuttered to a halt as Newt grasped his thigh under the table. A flush bloomed in Minho's cheeks and Newt splayed his fingers triumphantly over the denim of his jeans. Victory.

Marcus peered at Minho confusedly across the table. "So, what you'd do?" he asked, after swallowing a sip of iced tea.

"U—um," Minho began. "I had to run across the whole store and tell him, uh..."

Feeling evil, Newt rubbed his palm up and down Minho's thigh. Minho's hands folded over each other on the tabletop, fingers curling nervously. He took a breath. "I basically had to yell at this kid in front of his mother, you know?" he explained. "So—so you can imagine how that went."

"Unfortunately, I can," Marcus deadpanned. "I'll tell you of a time...Are you okay?"

"Fine." Minho's arm had shot down to grab Newt's hand, halting it's progress on his leg.

"All right. So, anyway, there was this one day a couple months ago..." And Marcus's long story began, with many hand gestures and loud exclamations.

This was too perfect. While Marcus was distracted by his own story, Newt wriggled his hand out from under Minho's. At first, Minho relaxed. Then Newt curled his fingers around Minho's inner thigh. Jerking slightly, Minho shot Newt a glance. Newt smiled innocently in reply. "Yes, love?"

"Stop," Minho muttered.

"Sorry." Then Newt leaned over for a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered in Minho's ear, "but with you looking like that, I just can't keep my hands off of you." At the same time, he moved his hand higher up Minho's thigh, almost touching—

"Ahh—" Minho hissed and seized Newt's wrist to haul it away. This time, Newt let him. He folded his hands neatly in his lap, as polite as always. Dinner had been won. Round one goes to Newt.

Turning deliberately away from Minho, Newt went back to enjoying his food like a victor.

-X-X-X-

The family was gathering in the living room after dinner, all of them chatting and laughing together. The two younger kids of the bunch, Gloria and Belle, were chasing each other back through the yellow-walled halls of Mrs. Park's house. Gloria was giggling with her black ponytail flying and Belle skipped down the hall to hear her new shoes clap on the floor. They disappeared like fairies into the back bedrooms.

In the living room, Alex and Aunt Lorinda were sitting on one couch, talking about something for college that Alex had to do. Marcus had taken the oaken rocking chair for himself at the head of the room, in front of the evening-lit windows. At first, Newt had eyed the couch with Alex and Lorinda, then the one across from it, where only Jackie was perched at one end. He knew the Park's, yes, but sometimes, he wasn't sure where he fit in with the more distant family members. Minho saved him, of course, like he always did. He hooked a finger in Newt's belt loop, encouraging him to follow with a smile; sitting on one end of the couch where Jackie sat, he let Newt take the seat beside him. There was hardly any space between them, as usual.

Marcus was still telling his long story and Minho looked like he was settling in to listen. It seemed like a good time to continue the game, while he was distracted, but Newt didn't. Their fingers were laced together on Minho's knee and Minho's thumb rubbed over his knuckles. Little tingles danced up his arm. Newt sighed and relaxed. Yes, maybe he could just relax for a while...

"Darling?" The voice was silk-lined and whispering in his ear. Newt felt it the whole way down to his toes.

"Hmm?" he hummed, not even bothering to look in Minho's direction.

"Have I told you about how stunning you look today?"

Newt cracked half a smile. "That's the best you can come up with?" he asked.

There was a chuckle, Minho's shoulder vibrating against Newt's. "No," he admitted quietly, "but I can't really talk about taking your clothes off in front of my family."

Newt made a tiny sound like he was choking. "W—what?" he stammered out.

"Don't get me wrong; you look amazing in skinny jeans," Minho murmured to him, lips almost grazing Newt's ear. "But I'd rather help you get them off."

Newt dropped his gaze down to his shoes, his shy coping mechanism to Minho's flirting. "Stop it, Min," he muttered. He hated the traitorous smile that worked into his words.

"What, you don't want me to?" Minho asked innocently. "I know you'd love it..."

"Shut up, you idiot."

"There's probably no one in the back bedrooms right now."

"Minho."

"Or the bathroom."

"Minho, if you don't be quiet, I'll..." Newt raked his brain for a good threat and none came. "...I'll do...something."

Minho's devilish smirk darkened his voice as he whispered, "you'll do 'something?' Angel, you should be doing me."

Letting go of Minho's hand, Newt smacked him lightly in the shoulder. "Stop it, Minho!" he hissed, face already burning. "You're such a moron."

Minho was too busy laughing to respond for a moment. "Might wanna get rid of that blush," he murmured. "People will wonder what we're talking about."

Muttering under his breath, Newt jerked his arm away when Minho trailed his fingers along his wrist. "We're not talking about ANYTHING."

"Oh?" Minho pecked the side of Newt's head, feathery hair soft under his lips, and breathed, "so, you weren't just thinking about hauling me back into one of those bathrooms?" Surreptitiously, he traced his nose along the curve of Newt's ear. "Push me against the wall?"

A shiver crawled up Newt's legs and back. "Minho..."

"I'd let you, you know," Minho went on lowly. He'd taken Newt's arm again, dragging his thumb across the scarred tissue of Newt's inner wrist. "I'd let you have your way with me however you'd like."

"I'm done talking to you," Newt declared and pointedly turned away. "No," he scolded, batting Minho's hand away when it reached for his hand again. "You're a jerk."

"Aww, Newt, c'mon," Minho fake-pouted.

"No."

"You're just mad cuz I'm gonna win."

"I'm getting a drink." Standing up, Newt shot Minho a warning glance over his shoulder. "If you follow me, there will be consequences," he threatened, and pointed at Minho imperiously. Minho just sat back on the couch, tossing Newt an innocent, lazy smile. Newt didn't trust that smile, so he chose then to make his way across the room and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was wide and inviting, still holding the tempting smell of Thanksgiving dinner. There were pots with glass lids on top, cracked to let the food cool off before going into the fridge. The tantalizing sight of food was getting to some of the younger cousins; they were swarming about Newt's legs and exclaiming over the cranberry sauce set too far back for them to reach. One of them, an adorable blonde with hazel eyes, stretched up her little arms to Newt. "Uncle Newt, can you pass the sauce, pleeeeeaaaase?" she asked sweetly.

Newt knew he really shouldn't give them something sweet right after dinner, but he had to give in when the others started tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Okay, okay. Here." Sliding the bowl closer, he watched fondly as they pounced on it. They produced spoons and smaller bowls from hidden places in their clothes and dug in. Little devils. Newt turned away as they ran off and went back to getting himself a drink.

After pouring himself some of the Park's iced tea, he braced a hand on the counter and peered out the window above the sink. The sky was painted orange by evening; he wondered how late it actually was now and if they should think about getting Belle home so she could sleep. Sipping from his glass, he decided that maybe they could stay for a little longer...

His thoughts halted when suddenly, a pair of hands appeared on him: one sneaking onto his stomach and the other rubbing tiny circles into his back. A high sound of surprise escaped him before he realized that, of course, it was Minho. His husband was leaning forward to nose the curve of Newt's ear. "Come back and sit with me, Newt," he cooed, trying on his seductively sweet voice. A new tactic, huh? Smart. "I miss you over there."

"I was barely gone for five minutes," Newt replied, rolling his eyes.

"Five minutes too long," Minho argued. He pecked the nape of Newt's neck, the tip of his nose dipping into flaxen hair.

"Mmhm." Newt sipped his tea again, nonchalantly. He refused to give in to Minho just yet, because honestly, he really wanted to beat him at this foolish little game. He'd won the last bet they had together (it had taken two weeks without sex for Minho to give in and beg his angel for one night together), and he wanted to keep the record going.

Sighing, Minho's breath tickled Newt's neck. "Giving in yet?" he asked quietly.

"Nope," Newt chirped around his glass.

"Aw, c'mon, Newt."

"I'll never surrender."

"You're no fun."

"You're not even trying anymore."

Minho's voice began to take on a darker tone. "We'll see about that." Catching his fingers in Newt's shirt, he tugged the blonde a little closer. Newt's back grazed Minho's chest and he mentally swooned at the toned muscle he felt there. Then Minho's fingers appeared again, on his lower back, and Newt started melting. "You're so beautiful," Minho whispered to his husband, "that I can't think straight, sweetheart." He massaged Newt's back with just the right amount of pressure.

"The cheesiness won't work on me," Newt muttered. He was leaning back into Minho's touch though, because God, did it feel good.

"Then I won't be cheesy," Minho countered. He stopped rubbing Newt's back as hard, keeping the pressure light enough to tease. Newt couldn't stop his soft, disappointed whine. His body shuddered when Minho's warm breath caressed his ear: "I love it when you make those sounds with me..."

Newt's glass met the counter with a clink as he set it down. "Stop," he mumbled weakly, hands resting limply on the counter and eyelids drooping. Minho had such a hold over him.

"No." Resting his cheek against Newt's hair, Minho wrapped his arms around Newt's waist. "You drive me crazy," he exhaled.

"Mm," Newt hummed, a small sound of protest. Then Minho's hands slipped down, one sneaking into his front pocket. Heat seeped from his palm into Newt's thigh and he gasped. The flames licking up his skin only grew worse when Minho's other hand slid over his jeans, below his belt. "Min, G—God," he stammered, wanting to shy away from the touch, but his body betrayed him when it arched forward.

"Sexy little thing," Minho breathed, triumph already in his attitude. "My Newt."

"St—stop—Ah—" Newt broke off when he found out he could push his hips forward against Minho's palm, sending pleasure spiraling up his body.

"I wanna take you home," Minho murmured.

"Please..."

"Get you out of those clothes."

"Minho."

"Drag you into bed."

"I can't..."

"Tell me that you want me." It was a challenge. Newt bit his lip as Minho continued to tease him, pressing himself up against Newt's back, hand still between Newt's legs. When Minho did something to him that made Newt's knees almost buckle, he grabbed Minho's wrist to stop him.

"Dammit," Newt muttered under his breath. This had been a stupid game from the beginning. He knew that Minho wanted him just as badly. That thought was enough to let him keep his dignity when he finally gave in. Spinning around in Minho's arms, he caged Minho's jaw in his hands. "I want you," he growled, and connected their mouths. He heard the smug hum against his lips. Then Minho kissed him back. It was dirty and deep, much too long for where they were. Thank God no one walked into that kitchen right then. Minho's fingers clutched at the back of Newt's shirt and jeans, the force of his kiss pinning Newt in place. He licked over Newt's bottom lip and Newt whimpered softly.

When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Newt glanced hurriedly around, worried that they'd been caught. He'd never hear the end of it if someone saw them making out on Thanksgiving in the Park's kitchen. Luckily, no one had wandered in. His thoughts snapped back to a jumbled mess when one of Minho's hands grabbed his butt; squeaking, he flushed bright red. "Okay, okay, you win," he stuttered. "Now—It's Thanksgiving, so stop touching me in your parents' kitchen."

Minho chuckled. "Sorry, baby, but I won," he pointed out lightly. "Which means I get to do whatever I want to you."

"That was never part of the deal," Newt argued, even as Minho began to pull him from the kitchen.

"It is now." Minho pecked Newt's lips once more. "Now, c'mon. Let's get Belle and get out of here. I have a date with an angel and I don't wanna be late."


	14. Chapter 14

-This is really short, but sweet, so enjoy! Thank you for the marvelous reviews!-

-DAY 14: Go out somewhere, and show a little PDA-

Technically, Newt was responsible for this one. Which was surprising, considering he was shy as hell in public.

-X-X-X-

It had already been half an hour and Belle was still in the bounce house. Minho could see her through the netting on the sides of the gigantic, blown-up castle. Her hair flashed brilliant red as she jumped up and down, giggling loudly alongside her new friends. Minho didn't recognize another child in there. It was strange and nice, how kids made new friends in bounce houses at the mall. It was just plain strange that someone had set up a bounce house in the mall and was letting people get inside for free. Literally, this thing was right in the middle of one of those huge halls of the New Haven Mall. Luckily, there were a few benches around it, so the Newton's could sit while Belle went nuts in there. Minho wouldn't even be here right now if Newt hadn't pointed out a place to sit.

Speaking of which... Minho glanced over at his husband beside him, to see if Newt was growing as bored as Minho was yet. Newt was lolling lazily on the bench, slouched down with horrible posture and half-closed eyes. Oh yeah, he was bored. But there was a blue raspberry smoothie in his hands that he'd evidently boughten from the smoothie shop a few yards away. So at least he had something to do while Minho had nothing. He stared at Newt sipping drowsily through the straw and suddenly felt thirsty.

"Is that any good?" he asked, poking Newt in the shoulder.

"Huh?" Newt glanced up at him with cute confusion, as though just waking up. The cuteness was intensified by the soft, dark gray sweater he wore.

Minho smiled teasingly at Newt's half-asleep mood. "I asked you if that was any good," he repeated, pointing at the smoothie cup.

"Oh. Yeah, it's pretty good." Newt took another sip, pointing at where Belle was now rolling along the floor of the bounce house. "How long do you think she'll be in there for?"

Minho shrugged, less worried about Belle and more concerned with this smoothie business. "I dunno."

"Ugh. I'm kinda sick of sitting here." Newt leaned against Minho's side as he spoke. In return, Minho slung his arm across Newt's shoulders, feeling the softness of that sweater against him.

"Tell me about it." Minho watched as Newt's lips met the straw again, rubbing his husband's shoulder absently. "Can I have some of that?"

Newt blinked in puzzlement, then his eyes widened as Minho made a grab for the smoothie. "Wha—No!" he yelped, stretching his arm out so that Minho couldn't reach. "Get your own."

"But you have one and you're right here."

"So?"

"So, I only want a little bit."

"Too bad."

"Newwwwt."

"Minhooooo."

Minho narrowed his eyes threateningly then, but Newt just smiled sweetly back at him. "You little shank," Minho muttered. Then, as fast as possible, he snatched at the smoothie again.

"Minho!" Newt scolded, waving the cup this way and that to avoid Minho's grabbing fingers. They were flush against each other on the bench now, Minho's arm caging Newt and the blonde wriggling in his grasp. Minho's fingertips grazed the cup at least twice, but each time, Newt somehow got it away from him. They really must've looked like two toddlers fighting in the middle of the mall. Halfway through, Minho started laughing, because it was just ridiculous. Newt stayed stubbornly quiet, but a broad grin stretched across his face as he kept his drink safe from Minho.

"I told you to get your own, shuck-face," he scolded, after Minho finally gave up. Placing his lips on the straw, Newt took a long, smug sip.

"I just wanna taste," Minho protested. "Why would I pay for another one when that's all I want?"

"Because you're immature?" Newt smiled around the straw, eyebrow arched at Minho.

Minho gaped at him in mock-outrage. "I'M immature?" he repeated. "You just fought with me over a smoothie on a bench."

"Because YOU won't go buy your own."

"Because it's not worth it."

"Because you're immature."

"Stop calling me immature, I just want a freakin' taste of the smoothie."

"Okay, you know what—" Newt didn't finish his sentence. He'd set his cup down on the bench beside him, then turned to face Minho. Reaching up, he grabbed Minho by the back of the neck and kissed him, hard. Minho's eyebrows shot up comically in surprise and his senses went haywire. He couldn't believe that his Newt, his cute shy Newt, was kissing him in public like this, and holy hell, he was tracing Minho's teeth with his tongue. Making a tiny noise, Minho cupped Newt's face with his free hand and fit their lips together. Newt tasted like blue raspberry and it was the most addictive thing Minho had ever experienced. Newt's breaths were rough in his mouth and there were fingers curling in the hair at the back of his head. Minho was pretty sure he had two seconds before he started full-on making out on this bench with Newt.

They broke apart, panting slightly. Newt's face was flushed, both from embarrassment and their kissing. He pushed his bangs out of his face sheepishly. "Um. So, how was it?"

Minho grinned. "Pretty good," he admitted, running a mischievous hand down Newt's back. "But I might need another taste to be sure..."


	15. Chapter 15

-Quick update, i know. But i got some very nice reviews, and I really wanna post this one! :)

I'm so sorry; this is nothing but a load of fluff. I barely wrote everything I wanted, I was so focused on the damn fluff. Anyway. You can still read it, if you want XD-

-DAY 15: Experiment in the kitchen, and cook up something new-

There was nothing accomplished that day, because Newt was a good cook and Minho was...not.

-X-X-X-

It was a lazy Sunday, Belle was jumping around on her bed with dolls, Minho was dragging his feet down the hall to the kitchen, and he thought he could hear Newt cooking in there. Plates were clattering, metal was scraping metal, and there was a hot, tempting smell wafting from the kitchen entrance. Minho padded down the hall in socks and sweatpants, curious and hopeful. It had been an uneventful day and he was hungry from sheer boredom. There was only so much fun he could have playing dolls with Belle. So, with a sly grin, he snuck into the kitchen.

"Hey, Newt, what're you—Oh my God." Minho cut himself off, halting at the doorway with widening eyes. He could only stand and stare dumbly at the sight in front of him.

Newt was indeed cooking, because he was next to the stove and there was an array of pots and pans simmering on its surface. But that wasn't what had captured Minho's attention. It was the blonde's too-cute cooking outfit of gym shorts and an old, white tank top; Newt only wore well-worn clothes when cooking, things he was willing to stain. But damn, did he look good in them. The tank top showed off his shoulders and the slim, but defined muscle in his arms. He glanced up when Minho walked in. "Oh, hey, Min," he greeted casually. "What's up?"

Minho didn't answer. He was too busy imagining his hands under Newt's shirt.

Newt raised his eyebrows at the lack of reply. "What?" he asked uncertainly. Taking a wooden spoon from a pot, he peered down at himself. "Did I spill something on me?"

"No," Minho answered at last. He smiled seductively at Newt when he got his voice working again and made his slow way across the kitchen. Newt got the hint from Minho's sure movements, looking away with an eye-roll. "I was just wondering what we were having for dinner."

"I'm sure you were," Newt replied flatly. "And it's a surprise, so don't try to eat anything yet."

"Not even if I volunteer to be the taste-tester?"

"Not even then."

"Mmhm." Slipping up next to Newt, Minho leaned his folded arms on the counter and watched him. He saw how the blonde's slender fingers worked, stirring something that smelled just heavenly. He wondered how good those fingers would feel in his spiked hair or maybe running along his tattoo... He had to swallow those thoughts when his face started heating up.

Newt continued what he was doing, until he glimpsed Minho's slight blush. "Why're staring at me like that?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.

Minho shrugged. "Cuz you look edible," he remarked. A smirk tilted up his lips.

Humming absently in return, Newt went back to his cooking. "Whatever. You wanna help me, or are you just gonna drool over there?"

Minho pouted, sticking his bottom lip out forlornly. "Aren't you gonna compliment me now?" he asked, voice dripping in dramatic sadness.

Sighing, Newt turned a half-closed, sarcastic look on his husband. Minho was nearly bent double in how he lazily leaned against the counter, hand propping up his chin. The barest hint of a sultry smile played across his mouth. Those broad shoulders were framed nicely by a white T-shirt and an ankle crossed over the other coyly. Newt had to admit, Minho was about as hot as he could get right now. But he refused to say it out loud. "You look awful," he lied.

"Liar," Minho accused at once.

"I don't lie."

"You're lying right now."

"Prove it."

"Put down that spoon and kiss me."

A grin snuck itself traitorously onto Newt's face. "I gotta finish YOUR dinner," he teased. "So I can't right now, love." He left the stove to get something out of a cabinet next to him, batting Minho's butt with a hand as he did.

Minho squeaked comically and straightened up fast, slanting a glare at Newt. "No fair," he muttered. "Now I'm all turned on."

Snickering to himself, Newt selected a couple of glasses for the three Newton's and brought them down to the counter. He glanced at Minho over his shoulder. "If you help me get this done, it'll go faster," he advised. "And then we can eat, and put Belle to sleep, and MAYBE I'll let you have me tonight." Minho's grin was wide and devilish, and he was already slipping his arms around Newt's waist when Newt added sternly, "but ONLY if you help me now."

"Uggghhh," Minho moaned in exasperation, dropping his head onto Newt's shoulder. His breath was warm on Newt's skin and made him shudder. "Fine, okay. I'll cook."

"Thank you," Newt chirped triumphantly. Minho mumbled something like, "shuck-face," and tickled Newt's side with dancing fingers. Giggling, Newt wrapped his arms around Minho's neck, one hand twining in the short hair on the back of Minho's head. It was incredibly soft to the touch and Newt purred as he ran his fingers through it.

Minho turned his head and nuzzled Newt's neck. "We aren't getting much done here," he pointed out, muffled by Newt's skin.

"You're right, we should start." Newt started to push him away.

"What? Noo..." Snagging Newt's waistband, Minho tugged him back.

"Minho, we can't just leave it there to burn."

"But we can stay for a little bit, right?"

"No."

"C'mon."

"No."

"Gimme a kiss." Minho tipped their foreheads together and gave pleading puppy-eyes.

Newt relented. "Just one," he warned. Then he cradled Minho's jaw and guided him into a soft kiss. Their lips touched, chastely at first. But Minho's mouth was so soft, and he was making little noises of bliss, and Newt was melting. Sighing, he urged Minho's lips apart and slipped his tongue past them. There was a sweet, dark taste of Minho, Minho's hands sliding up his back as he stretched on tiptoe to deepen the kiss more. They were practically making out now, angling their heads to keep close, hands exploring. When Newt couldn't resist and rolled his hips against Minho's, Minho started panting.

"Angel," Minho murmured, and pinned Newt against the counter.

"Mmm," Newt hummed in pleasure as Minho rubbed his back with sure fingertips. "Stop, we have to...We have to finish this..." His voice died when Minho brought his lips to Newt's neck.

"No we don't," Minho whispered. He kissed up and down Newt's neck, until he found a place he liked under the blonde's jaw. He pressed his mouth there and sucked.

"Ah—Min. Please, we can't." Newt pushed at Minho's shoulders weakly.

Nipping the soft skin, Minho pressed a palm to Newt's lower back. "We can," he mumbled.

"Belle."

"She's in her room."

"But..."

"I can make you crazy right here." Minho buried his face in the crook of Newt's shoulder and Newt felt teeth on his collarbone. Gasping, he clung to Minho's shirt. He thought he could hold on for a bit, but then Minho slid a hand into the front of his shorts.

"Ohh, G—God," he slurred, knees giving out as Minho's hand found the place between his legs. Minho caught Newt up against him with his free arm around his waist. His moved his palm in way that made Newt bite down on his lip and moan.

Minho exhaled harshly, because Newt was such a beautiful wreck. "I can't wait until after Belle's asleep," he whispered huskily.

"Ahh—" Newt whined as Minho stroked his hand over him again.

"I want you, now."

"Minho, we shouldn't."

"We're going to."

"No..." Growling, Newt managed to take Minho's wrist and drag it away from where it'd been teasing him. His breaths were ragged as he gave Minho a scolding glower. "We aren't going to," he argued, flustered and trying to compose himself.

Minho whimpered, disappointed. "But you looked so sexy, sweetheart."

"Shut up," was all Newt could say to that. He tugged scoldingly at Minho's spiky hair.

"I can go without dinner."

"Belle can't."

"Please, just have your way with me on this counter."

"Not after last time."

"Dammit."

Needless to say, Minho complained the entire way through both the making of and eating of dinner. But he got what he wished for later.

In fact, after their "attempt" to cook, Newt practically threw him into bed.


	16. Chapter 16

-I enjoyed this way too much. This chapter is definitely rated M guys, but you know I never get gross, haha. But still. Rated M. Minewt fluff. You're welcome :)

And thanks again for such amazing reviews!-

-DAY 16: Take a bubble bath or shower together-

It was sickening, how sweet Minho could be sometimes.

-X-X-X-

The day pretty much sucked. In every possible way.

First, Newt's computer had broken in a shower of sparks. Now he couldn't send his newest pictures to Sonya, up at her photography gallery shop. So no money was going to be made by Newt. Then, his freakin' illness had picked today, OF ALL SHUCKING DAYS to give him hell. He had a monster of a headache throbbing against the inside of his skull. It had started early that morning and progressed throughout the whole day. Finally, after sprawling out on the couch for hours, he'd succumbed to it and taken his medicine. It only helped a little though. He still had the damn headache.

AND THEN, Belle had gotten home and burst through the door like a lunatic. She started shouting about how she wanted Daddy to play with her and Newt, despite all his protests, was suckered into it. Unfortunately, Belle wanted to play a game that involved jumping up and down on her bed while Newt laid on it; the goal: getting him to fall off. Well, he was certainly happy that he didn't fall off, but the constant shifting and bumping of the mattress had sent an ache into his muscles.

He'd been eternally grateful when Belle grew tired of the game. He actually managed to get her to sleep and she was back in her room, peacefully napping now. As soon as her eyelids slipped shut, he was out of that room. He threw on old black sweatpants and a white tank top, then collapsed onto the sofa. There was no way in hell he was moving from this spot. No way.

"Hey, Coal," he mumbled, as the calico cat pawed at his leg from the floor. "You tired too?" The cat mewed curiously in reply and Newt dangled an arm over the side of the couch to scratch her ears. Her fur was silk-soft to the touch, making him smile slightly. She started purring, rubbing her head against his palm. "At least you love me."

At that moment, there was the clicking of the front door swinging open. Then the sound of a guitar case being set down and Minho's voice. "Hey, where is everybody?"

Well, Coal was gone in two seconds flat. Newt sighed in defeat as she darted away, tail flicking eagerly. He listened to Minho toeing out of his boots and making it a few steps forward, before Coal tackled his legs. "Coal!" Minho exclaimed in boyish delight, and Newt couldn't help but smile again. "C'mere, kitten..."

There was a flurry of purrs and paws batting Minho's knees. That cat had a serious obsession with her owner. Minho seemed to return the affection, because he was still in the hall, petting his precious cat. Newt felt a strange twinge of jealousy. He wanted some attention after such a rough day. Clearing his throat, he called to his husband, "hi, Minho."

There was a shift as Minho presumably stood up from kneeling next to Coal. "Hey, Newt," he replied warmly. "You in the living room?"

Newt frowned poutingly. He'd wanted to be called "angel" by that low, lovely voice. "Yeah, I'm in here."

"Where's Belle?" The padding of footsteps moved through the hall as Minho entered the living room. Pausing beside the couch, he blinked when he glimpsed Newt laying on his back. "Why're you lying down?" he asked.

"Belle's back in her room, sleeping," Newt answered the first question. Then he shifted slightly and winced. "And I'm lying down because she screwed up some joints while we were playing earlier."

Minho grimaced at Newt's strained expression. "You don't look so good," he remarked cautiously.

"I don't FEEL so good." Sighing, Newt raked a hand through his blonde hair. "I had a bad day."

"Really?" Moving over to kneel next to the couch, Minho took Newt's hand. He intertwined their fingers and studied Newt's face.

"Yeah. Laptop broke and I gotta headache. Not to mention how much everything aches after Belle's shucking game."

"Aw, baby," Minho cooed in sympathy, placing a kiss to Newt's knuckles.

Swallowing at the fondness in the gesture, Newt used their closeness to admire his husband. Minho had on the most amazing black skinny jeans and a gray sweater. His always-styled hair gleamed like ebony velvet, bringing out a great contrast to his olive skin. Even with the slight bagginess of the sweater, his broad shoulders were clearly outlined. Newt told himself that since he had a bad day, he deserved a chance to imagine hauling Minho onto the couch with him, maybe getting his hands up in that sweater...

His enticing imagination was interrupted when Minho grazed his lips to Newt's knuckles again. "Do you want me to do anything for you?" he asked sweetly.

Ravish me right here on this couch, Newt thought feverishly. He swallowed the words though. "No, I'm fine," he muttered. "Just being a wimp, I guess."

"Are you sure?" Minho ran his lips absently down Newt's palm. He found the ragged scar on Newt's wrist and trailed little kisses along it.

Newt closed his eyes, basking in the soft lips on his skin. "I'm sure," he hummed distractedly. "I'm just gonna lay here for a while longer."

Minho seemed to think for a moment. There was silence from him. Then he released Newt's hand. "Okay." There was a creak from the floor as he bent to kiss Newt's forehead. "Let me know if you change your mind," he murmured.

Was he pitching his voice down on purpose? He knew Newt loved it all husky like that. The blonde scolded his stupid reactions to Minho and nodded silently. He didn't trust his voice to stay steady if he spoke. He listened to the sounds of Minho standing up and walking away. It sounded like he was heading farther back into the house, down the hall that led to the bedrooms. Newt assumed he was going to change or something. Newt didn't blame him; it was nice to be in lazy clothing after this day.

He dozed for a while longer, unmoving. The dull throb in his head had subsided to a nag near the back. But it was bearable. The pain in his muscles was not, however. Wrinkling his nose in discomfort, he tried stretching out a bit. Arms above his head, he pushed his toes into the arm of the couch. It felt good, the way his spine cracked once and his arms pulled. But it was only temporary relief. "I hate my life," he muttered to himself, relaxing onto the cushions once more. "Officially hate it." He needed a massage. Or a spa to go to. Or a relaxing vacation. Or a—

"Newt, get up."

Newt jerked in surprise at Minho's sudden reappearance. Opening his eyes, he squinted up at Minho, who stood over him again. "What d'you mean?" he asked. "I can barely move."

Minho shook his head, a half-smile quirking his lips. "Doesn't matter," he replied. "Get up. I gotta show you something." Propping his hands on his hips, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"What is it?" Newt asked suspiciously.

"Just trust me."

"...okay." Pushing himself up on his elbows first, Newt clambered off of the couch. His brows rose slightly when Minho eagerly grabbed his hand and led him from the room. "Whoa, wait, what?" he stammered, stumbling a little behind. His limp always grew worse when his body ached like this, so it was harder to keep up. What was Minho so excited about?

"You're gonna love it," Minho assured him, glancing back once. His dark eyes glowed.

Newt cocked his head in puzzlement, but didn't argue anymore. He let Minho lead him past the kitchen and down the hall that ended in their bedroom. At first, he thought that Minho just wanted sex. I won't argue with that, he decided, already getting high on the idea of stripping Minho's clothes off under him. But Minho halted before he reached that door. Turning into the bathroom, he pulled Newt after him.

"Hey, what're we—?" Newt stuttered, as Minho dragged him through the doorway. He nearly tripped over himself as they entered the white-walled room. He heard the door shut behind him with a heavy click and tried to glance at their surroundings. He caught a glimpse of something orange on the sink, but then Minho was cradling his jaw. Newt's eyes widened as Minho kissed him passionately, teasing his lips apart and tasting his breath. Minho was kissing him the way he had on their wedding day, all soft and slow. He tasted so good and Newt whined from the back of throat as their lips moved together.

Minho chose then to pull back, resting his forehead to Newt's with a slow smile. "Surprise," he said quietly, and stepped aside.

Newt looked into the room—and gaped in astonishment.

The bathroom light wasn't even turned on; that orange he'd seen earlier came from a fat red candle glowing on the sink. There was another next to it, and still others, scattered artfully about the room. They all tossed up a scent of cinnamon, making the room smell like Christmastime. The bathtub had been filled with steaming water, a towel folded neatly beside it. Piled on top were iridescent bubbles, reaching nearly seven inches high above the water. It was the most inviting scene Newt had ever seen in his life, especially after this DAY.

He turned his incredulous gaze to a very hopeful Minho. "Minho...did YOU do all this?" he asked.

"Well." Minho toed the floor, lowering his gaze bashfully. He was painfully adorable. "I knew you needed something to cheer you up and I've been saving the candles for a while..."

Newt couldn't stop staring at him. "You did this?" he repeated.

"Um, yeah, I just thought—"

"I bloody love you." Newt flung his arms around Minho's waist and pressed himself up against him. Staggering, Minho chuckled, returning the embrace. "I mean it," Newt announced into Minho's chest. "I love you, and I can't remember the last time someone did this for me, and it's so amazing, and shuck, I love you so shucking much." He rubbed his cheek against Minho's chest, breathing in the smell of Minho's cologne from his sweater.

Minho gave a pleased hum at Newt's words, stroking his back lovingly. "That's what a husband's for, right?" he asked.

Newt whimpered then and hugged Minho tighter. "I'm so freaking glad you're my husband," he stated, and Minho dropped a kiss to his head.

"I'm glad I'm yours too," Minho murmured. Then he gently pushed Newt back by the shoulders. "Now, relax, sweetheart. I'll come back later to make sure you didn't drown."

Newt cast a knowing look up at Minho, ashen-blue eyes playful. "Or to try and see me through all those bubbles...?"

"Maybe," Minho admitted, and rubbed their noses together once. His breaths turned shaky as Newt leaned up and pecked his lips. "I gotta go and let you enjoy this. Or I might try to take those pants off for you."

Newt brightened at that, but Minho stepped back, giving him space. After a last, tossed-back smile, Minho slipped out the door. He pulled it closed behind him, leaving Newt alone in the candlelit room. Linking his hands behind his back, Newt surveyed the room again. A wide grin worked itself onto his face. How incredibly lucky he was, to have Minho all to himself. And to have that awesome bathtub beckoning to him from across the room. He took the hem of his tank top and tugged it off easily, starting a pile beside the sink. His sweatpants soon followed. Then, glancing back at the door, he fiddled with the waistband of his boxers. Half of him really hoped Minho would walk back in right now. But finally, he sighed and slipped the clothing off on his own. Wearing nothing but his wedding ring and an M tattooed on his chest, he dipped a foot in the water.

"Bloody hell," he hissed, because it was hot. But after a moment, it started to feel good. Really good. He relaxed as he stepped into it and slowly stretched out across the tub. The bubbles tickled his skin and made him sneeze when one nudged his nose. Sinking under them, up to his chin, he sighed blissfully. The heat cradled him from all angles, melting the aches from his body. He nearly whimpered in relief when his bad leg went below the surface.

"Shuck," he exhaled, closing his eyes. He could just lay here forever. The flames dancing from the candles threw flickering light across the ceiling. In the dim, orangey light, Newt drowsily let the water take his weight. He was going to have to remember to thank Minho for this later. It was utter Heaven.

As if on cue, a quiet knock sounded on the door. "You all right in there?" Minho's voice asked.

Opening his eyes, Newt glanced over at the door. "Yeah," he answered. Then he added, "you can come in."

"Okay." With a whisper of sound, Minho pushed open the door and snuck inside. He was careful in the way he closed it again. "Don't wanna wake up Belle," he explained, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. Then he smiled fondly at Newt. "You like it?"

"I love it," Newt answered with feeling. "It's awesome."

"I knew it."

"Yeah, well. You know me pretty well."

"I do, don't I?"

"Don't get cocky." Newt shot him a warning glare.

Minho just shrugged with a shoulder flippantly. Then he shuffled his feet, turning sheepish. "Well, um," he stammered. "I'll leave you alone now."

Newt frowned in disappointment as Minho turned back toward the door again. The fluidity of his movements was intoxicating to watch, especially in those tight jeans. A wave of longing washed over Newt. "Wait, er, Minho," he called, sitting up a bit.

Minho paused and looked back questioningly. Oh God, he was so sweet.

"You can...um." Newt's ears burned and he had to glance down, then up again shyly. "You can...get in with me...if you want."

To his sheer delight, Minho blushed. "Why?" he asked, a hint of mischief entering his voice. "You want me to?"

Newt recognized that look. The question swept him up in fantasies of Newt and his husband in the bathtub together, water dripping down the sides, Minho moaning his name as he gripped the edge of the tub... Newt squished those thoughts before they drove him mad. "Yeah," he answered coyly. "I mean, I do."

"Thought you wanted to relax," Minho teased, facing Newt more than the door now.

"Who says we can't relax together?"

"Angel, you're making me crazy, talking like that." Minho smirked that lazy smirk he got when he pretended to talk all sexy with Newt.

There was that pet name Newt adored. His hands itched to touch Minho. "Just get in here," he mumbled and slipped into the water up to his nose.

Chuckling at the blonde's shyness, Minho grabbed the hem of his sweater. Newt was instantly alert again, watching as discreetly as possible as Minho stripped his sweater off. Flawless skin rippled over sleek muscle in his arms and chest, his N tattoo plainly visible. And Christ, don't get Newt started on Minho's six-pack. Minho was grinning as he undid his belt buckle. He knew Newt's eyes were on him and he liked it. Newt was too caught up in watching Minho strip to care. He swallowed as the button of Minho's jeans came undone and those lovely skinny jeans slipped down. He actually flushed and looked away when Minho's briefs followed. Bare feet padded on the tile, and Newt scooted forward to make room behind him in the tub.

"Do you want to...Oh." Newt's blush deepened as Minho climbed in behind him and lifted him up by the hips. A sharp sigh escaped as he was settled back onto Minho's lap, back against Minho's toned chest. The touch of their bare skin under the soap bubbles made him swoon. "Ohh..." he repeated, slower and drunkenly. He leaned back against Minho, head resting in the crook of Minho's collarbone.

"Damn, you were right," Minho said appreciatively. "This is amazing."

"Told you," Newt mumbled.

"Mmmm," Minho hummed in bliss, rolling his shoulders to relax them and sinking a bit deeper beneath the bubbles. Newt could imagine his lashes drooping as he held Newt in the hot bath.

They laid like that for a while. Neither of them spoke much. There was a very drunk, slow feeling in the air. Newt reveled in Minho's added body heat on him and tangled their legs, tracing Minho toes with his own. Minho was dipping his hand in the water and using his fingers to trickle droplets on Newt's shoulder. He did it again and again, a lazy routine in the warm room. Newt caught his hand once, before it could enter the water again. Minho stirred slightly. "What?"

Lifting Minho's hand, Newt watched their fingers overlap. Their wedding rings shone side by side. He rubbed his thumb over Minho's. "We're married," he murmured simply.

"I know," Minho joked. "You asked and I said yes. I'm glad you remember all that though." Newt was silent. Minho shifted, trying to see Newt's face. "Newt? ...Isaac?"

Newt sighed and let their hands fall back into the water together. "You're the only person who still calls me that sometimes," he commented.

"Feeling sentimental?"

"Do you remember Siren's Paradise?" Newt asked suddenly, barely above a whisper.

Minho didn't answer for a long moment. A long breath eased out of him. "Yes," he confessed. He wrapped his arms around Newt's middle and buried his face in Newt's neck. "Yes."

"Do you...remember what happened there?" Newt could feel Minho's hair on his ear, not yet wet. "Our first time?"

A low noise came from Minho's throat. "I still dream about it."

Newt shuddered. Bringing a hand up, he threaded his damp fingers into Minho's spiked hair. "I want to know what's in your dreams," he said softly.

"You." Minho nuzzled Newt's neck. "It's always you, and the way you looked that night..." He trailed off with a tiny whimper and kissed the tip of Newt's ear.

Newt was blown away by the amount of love he felt in Minho's words, the utter helpless love. "You really are this in love with me, aren't you?" he asked, fascinated. "You really couldn't live without me."

Minho kissed Newt's ear again, then took his earlobe in his teeth and sucked lightly. Newt sighed roughly. "I wouldn't survive a day," he whispered in Newt's ear, "if you didn't love me back the way you do." He nosed Newt's hair, inhaled his scent. "Why'd you bring up our honeymoon now?" he asked curiously.

Newt's eyelids drifted lower and he snuck a hand down to Minho's hip. "I want you to make love to me the way you did then," he breathed.

Minho's body tensed. "Newt, I...I didn't plan on—" His words were swallowed when Newt shifted in his lap to grind suggestively back against him. Newt felt Minho's hips lift up and a whimper tore from husband.

"Please, Minho." Newt reached up to cup the back of Minho's neck. Turning his head and tipping up his chin, he brought their mouths together.

The angle was a bit off but it didn't matter. Minho grabbed for Newt's hips and kissed him like he'd never kissed before. Lips and teeth tangled as they desperately searched for more of each other. Newt could taste Minho's tongue, licking the soft gasps out of Newt's mouth. He rocked their bodies together again and Minho bit down on his lower lip. "Oh god, Newt," Minho choked out, before Newt claimed his mouth again. He ran his tongue over Minho's lips, then past them, and Minho started panting. One hand came up and grasped Newt's hair. Newt whined into Minho's lips as Minho carded the golden hair back off Newt's forehead, messing it up.

"Min," Newt exhaled, as Minho broke the kiss abruptly. Then Newt was tilting his head off to the side as Minho kissed his neck. Minho licked the water from Newt's skin, then scraped his teeth up Newt's throat. The hand on Minho's hip tightened. Newt closed his eyes as Minho mouthed along his neck, finding all the right places and nipping them teasingly. At one point, he sank his teeth in harder and Newt was embarrassed by how readily he mewled in pleasure. Then Minho was grinding up against him and Newt couldn't stop making obscene noises.

"My Newt," Minho whispered huskily, "my angel." He rolled his hips up and Newt hissed, grasping the edge of the tub. Water bounced up around them.

"Min...Ah...God..." Newt couldn't take anymore. Moving up on Minho's lap, he grabbed for both sides of the tub. Breathing hard, he slowly sank himself down onto Minho, gasping at the feel of it. Minho seized his hips, choking on a sound. Newt waited until he felt like he could move.

"A—are you...Can you—? Ohhh God," Minho mewled as Newt pushed their bodies together, rocking against him. There was a muffled smack as Minho's palm landed on the wall for support. The water whispered around them as they moved, harsh breaths and wet skin filling the air. Newt trembled as Minho took over, grinding his hips up into Newt's with a languid, easy rhythm. He felt Minho sit up just enough for Newt to toss his head back onto Minho's shoulder. Minho's fingers of one hand were splayed across Newt's stomach, pulling him onto Minho with every movement of their bodies. Minho drove into him particularly hard and Newt arched his back, huffing out a breath by Minho's ear.

"Please, don't stop," he begged, as Minho moved slightly faster, sliding his hand up Newt's chest.

Minho kissed at Newt's shoulder. "I won't," he murmured shakily. "I—I can't."

Their movements were desperate now, delicious, frantic. Newt made little breathy noises every time Minho slid into him, searching for anything to keep him sane. One hand clung to the edge of the tub and the other grabbed for Minho's hip and thigh. The hot water slipped up the walls of the tub as Minho kept rocking himself into Newt. Growling, he brought his lips to Newt's ear and whispered soft, soft things to him that made Newt gasp for air. Then Minho slid his hand between Newt's legs. He did something that made Newt's eyes roll back, body jerking against Minho's. "Min," Newt managed and snatched the back of Minho's head with a hand, crushing their lips together. They kissed wildly, gasping, biting each other's lips. Newt tangled his fingers in Minho's hair, soaking it so that strands flopped messily into his eyes.

"I love you," Minho moaned into Newt's mouth, through the press of their bodies together. Newt ground onto him in reply and Minho gave a tiny sound of pleasure, biting his lip. "I love you, Isaac Newton, I, God, I love you so much."

Newt dropped his head back, a breathed, "I love you, too, Minho Newton," leaving his lips. And then his climax was rippling up inside of him, hitting him like a lightning bolt, and he couldn't breathe. His hand fell onto Minho's, fingers entwining as Minho arched up under him. Newt couldn't think, not with Minho groaning in his ear, telling him he'd reached it too. Newt's body tensed up and at the last second, Minho pressed a hand over Newt's mouth. Ecstasy racked Newt's body and he cried out into Minho's hand, grasping Minho's side.

For a moment, they were still, the tremors ebbing away. The water settled around them again. Then Newt carefully removed Minho's hand from his mouth and lifted himself off of Minho. A low whimper came from him at the loss and his arms shivered to hold him up. He felt Minho wrap his arms around his waist and kiss the nape of his neck. "Lay back, darling," Minho whispered. "I have you."

Carefully, Newt stretched out on top of Minho again, though this time not in the way they'd been joined before. Minho's strong arms folded him up against a warm chest and Newt sighed. Minho kissed the side of his head affectionately. "Thanks for the bath," Newt ventured quietly.

Minho's lips curved up against his hair. "I wasn't exactly planning on joining you," he pointed out. Ruefully, he touched a flop of black hair. "And now my hair's all messed up."

"Sorry." Newt turned his head to brush his lips to Minho's jaw.

"Nah. I like it when you mess it up." Minho leaned his head against Newt's. "Means you like it."

Newt nuzzled at Minho's neck in return. Then he drew back to gaze at him. Minho's hair was truly a mess, rumpled and damp, no longer spiked. His dark eyes were all melty and his lips flushed from rough kisses. He looked at Newt in that just-made-love way that could make Newt's body weak. "Do I tell you you're gorgeous?" Newt asked.

Minho's gaze slid away coyly. "Yes."

"Good. Just making sure." Newt cuddled up against his husband and closed his eyes. He started smiling.

"What're you smiling about?"

"We're married."


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you so much for the reviews! Here's a new chapter for you, wonderful readers! :)-

-DAY 17: Challenge each other to a board game-

Who said chess couldn't be this interesting?

-X-X-X-

The first thing Minho saw when he got home was Newt, holding a box with CHESS printed across the side in curly letters. The blonde was also wearing baggy sweatpants and a suspiciously bulky hoodie that belonged to Minho. After informing Minho that Belle had been sent to a friend's house for the evening, he told Minho that they were playing chess. And that he better put on some more clothes.

Minho, who thought that he was perfectly clothed in jeans and a pale blue tee, couldn't think of a reason to say no to such odd requests. So, he dropped off his guitar case in their room and threw on his maroon jacket over his shirt. Newt rolled his eyes pityingly when he saw Minho, but Minho still couldn't of why.

They were now sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, the chess board between them. Minho was playing with the white pieces, Newt the black. There was some kind of charge in the room, as though someone was holding their breath, but Minho didn't understand why, exactly. Why did Newt keep glancing up at him like that, deep blue eyes playful? He was fidgeting too, pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie. Minho wasn't sure what the shuck was going on, but he had to admit, it was kinda intriguing.

"Okay, what's going on here?" he asked at last.

Newt glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Hm?"

Minho sent him a flat look over the board. "Don't play dumb," he deadpanned. "I can see that something's happening here. What're you planning?""I don't know what you're talking about." Newt shook his head, a blank look plastered to his face. But then he had to bring a hand up to his mouth, smothering half of a smile. The way he looked then, too-large sleeves covering part of his hands and a sly expression on his face, was undeniably hot.

Minho narrowed his eyes. "Yeah you do."

"I'm not planning anything."

"You're not planning anything?"

"Nope."

"You just wanna play chess with your husband."

"Yep."

Minho stared at him for a long moment. Smiling sweetly, Newt gave him nothing but puppy-eyes as an answer. Finally, Minho gave up. "Whatever you say..." Trailing off, he turned back to the game. It was his turn, after all. Nearly all of their pawns were gone, because those were always the first to go during their chess games. They didn't play very often, but when they did, Minho liked to jump all the pawns first. Now, he surveyed the rest of Newt's pieces. I'm taking out his knight, he decided, and carelessly knocked over Newt's knight with his queen.

"Not bad," Newt remarked, a strange tone in his voice. Clearing his throat, he took the bottom of his hoodie and tugged it up over his head. Minho's eyebrows lifted when he saw that Newt wore a long-sleeved shirt underneath.

"Shuck, was it cold in here all day or something?" he asked curiously.

Shrugging, Newt straightened out the hem of his shirt. "I guess." He didn't seem to put any thought into his next move, which was getting rid of Minho's last pawn. Then he waved impatiently at the board. "Your turn."

Minho raised a brow at the tone, but didn't argue. "Okay..." He scrutinized the board for a minute, before choosing to use his queen again and bump one of Newt's pieces over.

The clatter of it tipping over was still in the air as Newt started pulling his shirt up his torso. Minho's eyes widened in first surprise and then confusion when he noticed that Newt wore a T-shirt beneath. The blonde tossed the long-sleeved shirt away, unbothered, and looked back at Minho. The tiniest smirk danced over his lips as he rested his elbows on his knees. "What?" he asked, feigning innocence.

Minho looked first at the chess board, then at Newt's shirt crumpled on the floor, then at Newt. Slowly, the pieces fit together. "Are you...stripping every time I jump your pieces?" he asked.

"Oh, good, you finally get it now," Newt remarked cheerily. Selecting his queen, he scanned the board deviously. "Now I can jump one of yours. I've been waiting for you to get it, so I can make you take your clothes off."

"What—Wait, no!" Minho stammered as Newt shoved one of his bishops off the board. "I'm not wearing enough clothes for this and I suck at chess!"

"I told you to put more on."

"Well, I didn't realize I'd need plenty to TAKE OFF."

"Too bad. I just jumped you, didn't I?" Newt's words were punctuated with an evil twist of his mouth.

"...you shank," Minho muttered, because he could think of nothing else to say. Sighing heavily, he unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it. Well, now Newt was wearing multiple layers and Minho was in only everyday clothes. And Newt was a pro at chess compared to Minho.

Minho was so screwed.

It especially showed twenty minutes (only twenty freaking minutes!) later, when Minho was glaring at the chessboard while Newt watched him smugly. The blonde had discarded his sweatpants and T-shirt, but he still wore a tank top and ANOTHER pair of sweatpants. The jerk had come prepared. Minho? Minho was in his shucking boxers already.

"You do realize that no matter what you do, you're getting jumped," Newt pointed out helpfully.

"Shut up," Minho replied. His fingers were hovering over his queen. He really needed to be careful now. As much as he normally enjoyed being naked with his husband in the same room, now was not the time. Now was the time for him to show up Newt so that the blonde would wipe that smirk off his face.

Newt let out a flicker of bright laughter. "You're gonna lose, Minho. Why don't you just give up now?"

"Cuz I wanna get you to take off that damn shirt."

"Why?"

"So that I can feel better about how badly I lost."

"Uh-huh. Right. Nothing will make you feel better about this atrocious loss."

"Be quiet and let me think."

Obediently, Newt fell silent. He leaned back, hands planted on the floor behind him, and golden lashes low over his eyes. He looked like a cat watching a mouse in his claws. He already knew he'd won. Mumbling about how jerky Newt could be, Minho glanced back down at the board. Yeah, he was pretty much done for after this move. There was no denying that. But he wasn't going down without a fight. Searching desperately for one piece to jump, he picked up his queen. Oh, look, Newt had a knight left...

"Ha!" he crowed, as he practically threw Newt's knight across the room. The blonde looked amused at Minho's foolish victory, as Minho jabbed a finger at Newt. "Take your clothes off, shuckface!"

"I hope you know I'm only taking off my shirt," Newt replied mildly.

"Don't care," Minho chirped. "That's one less piece of clothing and one more win for me." He twirled his hand at Newt imperiously. "Carry on. I'm waiting."

Sitting up, Newt shook his head. "Try not to enjoy the view too much," he said, with an uncharacteristic and flirtatious wink that sent Minho's heart into dizzying circles. Newt reached back for the top of his tank top and peeled it off, taking his time. Despite himself, Minho swallowed at the lazy bend of muscle in Newt's arms as the white fabric slipped down them. The feather-soft skin of his chest was revealed, along with the cursive lines of his M tattoo. Tossing his tank top away, he sat back again, giving Minho a perfect view of his slight six-pack (holy shuck, had Newt been working out when Minho wasn't looking?!).

"Uhhhh..." was all that came out of Minho's mouth, which was hanging open dumbly.

"What?" Newt angled his head back a bit, letting a lock of blonde hair slip into his eyes.

"You..." Minho stopped talking. He was too busy staring at the lines of Newt's hips, forming a tantalizing 'V' that dipped into the low waistband of his sweatpants.

Something like a coy little giggle came from Newt and the sound was so adorable, it made Minho's hands tremble. "Stop looking at me like that," Newt mumbled, allowing his shyness to surface as he looked away from Minho. He knew exactly how to affect Minho.

Minho pretended that he was going to control himself for about two seconds more. Then he gave up.

"Get over here," he growled, and scrambled across the board as fast as possible. Newt yelped as Minho caged him with arms on either side of his waist. Grabbing Newt's hips, Minho sat down and hauled the blonde into his lap; he wrapped Newt's legs around his waist as Newt laughed and struggled feebly.

"Minho," Newt scolded between chortles, then, "Minho!" when Minho nuzzled into his neck. His fingers twined themselves in Minho's hair as Minho kissed up his throat. "Someone doesn't have much control," he purred, letting his head fall back in bliss.

"You were asking for it," Minho flashed back. He planted his palms flat on the small of Newt's back, pulling him farther into Minho's lap. "Stripping in front of me with that stupid shucking smirk on your face..."

Minho's teeth had found Newt's earlobe and he gasped. "Oh?" he asked breathlessly. "So I don't get a say in this?"

"No." Minho leaned Newt back in his arms so that he could kiss that M tattoo. "I'm gonna make you crazy right now, angel."

Newt's breath left in a long exhale. "We still didn't finish the game, you know."

"Shut up and take your pants off."


	18. Chapter 18

-I'm a terrible person for loving this as much as I do. Anyway, here's my new chapter! Your reviews always make me smile and I'm so happy you're all enjoying this so much. Until next time!:)-

-DAY 18: Try something new in the bedroom-

Newt was turning into quite a dark little angel.

-X-X-X-

It was a lazy late night. Belle had been asleep for quite some time and outside, there wasn't a trace of sunlight anymore. It was steadily growing colder at nighttime with the coming winter, only a few brown leaves clinging to their branches. Above the stark trees, the stars winked down from outside the living room windows, observing the scene inside. On a wide TV screen, a romantic movie was playing with a young girl laughing at something a guy had said to her. A lithe calico cat scampered across the couch cushions, amber eyes round and curious. It reached a barrier in the form of red pajama bottoms. Meowing, it reached out with a paw and batted at them.

"Hey, Coal," a smooth voice said. "What're you doing over there?"

In reply, Coal mewed again, more insistently this time. Her demands were met by her owner's fingers running down her back. Arching her back up into the sensation, she purred gratefully. "Aw, get up here," that voice mumbled. Ha, what a sucker he was for her.

Minho was grinning like a fool as he scooped Coal up with a hand and placed her in his lap. She flopped over onto her back and let him rub her stomach. Her fur was soft to the touch and the purrs tumbling from her chest vibrated under his hand. Minho chuckled when she tugged at his black tee with her paws. He really did love his cat. He poked her once on the nose and she grabbed his finger with her forepaws.

"You're unbelievable."

Minho didn't even glance up at the sound of Newt's voice. He just smiled wider and continued petting his beloved cat. "Jealous?" he asked loftily.

"Of a cat?" Newt scoffed.

"Not just any cat." Lifting Coal up, Minho dropped a kiss on her forehead and prompted another pleased meow. "The cat I'm holding right now instead of you."

"Please. She knows she can never compare to me."

"And how do you figure that?"

"I can do things to you that she never will."

Minho finally looked up at that, eyebrows rising, and gazed at the angel on the couch with him. Newt reclined on the cushions carelessly, his side squished up against Minho's. The blonde was adorable in boxers and a blue T-shirt, the latter of which had a yellow smiley face stamped on the chest. He slanted a look up at Minho through sooty blue eyes, half a smile playing on his lips. Minho stared at his husband's tousled golden hair and the hand resting on his knee. Newt was a gorgeous little thing tonight, wasn't he?

"Oh?" he asked, going back to stroking Coal's ears and head. "And what 'things' do you do to me, exactly?" He heard no answer from Newt and was about to ask again, when fingertips appeared on his chin. Minho blinked as Newt turned his head to meet his eyes, just before they kissed. Newt had Minho's bottom lip between his teeth in the first second and slowly, Minho set Coal back down on the couch. His hands came up to cup Newt's cheeks, thumbs stroking the places beneath his eyes. Newt sucked lightly on his lower lip and Minho let out a soft whimper. With a silky curve of a smile, Newt whispered into Minho's lips, "I can show you what I do to you."

Minho's eyebrows rose in surprise, because it was almost always Minho who asked for sex and never Newt, he was so devastatingly chaste, but—God, now he was taking Minho's hand and standing up off the couch. "I—is Belle asleep?" Minho asked stammeringly, letting Newt drag him off the couch and through the living room.

"Yeah," was Newt's tossed-over-his-shoulder answer.

"Are you sure? I mean, because I just don't want to—" The words dropped away when Newt paused and looked back at Minho with those gorgeous blue eyes.

"You know, Min," Newt began playfully, sidling over to Minho with a hand splayed on his chest, "you're acting like you don't wanna make love to me." The last words were whispered, as he leaned up and breathed them into Minho's ear.

Minho shuddered from his head to his toes. He couldn't resist cupping the back of Newt's neck and pulling him into another kiss. Newt hummed into his mouth, taking the breaths that Minho gasped softly against his lips. Intertwining their fingers, he broke it, already backing up down the hallway. Minho laughed breathlessly like a fool and allowed Newt to guide him back down the hall that led to the bathroom and the bedrooms. He felt like a teenager again, clumsy with the feeling of affection filling him up. They passed the bathroom, and Belle's room, the door closed as she slept inside. At the back of the hallway was Minho's and Newt's room.

Newt was through the door in an instant, closing it firmly, and shoving Minho back against it. Minho was already breathing heavier, his hands on Newt's lower back, curling into his T-shirt. He nearly lost his breath altogether when Newt kissed his nose sweetly, then nipped his upper lip. "I've wanted you all night," the blonde confessed, running his hands up and down Minho's chest.

"Could've told me earlier," Minho rasped, sneaking a hand under Newt's shirt to feel his bare skin at his waist.

Newt placed a kiss on Minho's neck, a tease at what was coming. "Love, take your shirt off," he murmured, hooking his fingers in the hem of Minho's tee.

Cracking a sly grin, Minho lifted his arms up above his head. "Take it off for me."

Newt bit his lip, catching his smile, and took the hem of Minho's T-shirt in his hands. He took his time peeling the fabric up Minho's body, admiring the rippling muscle and perfect skin. Minho gave a tiny sigh once the shirt was gone, on the floor, and his hands were back on Newt's hips. His thumbs stroked back and forth on the place above Newt's boxers. Newt was looking at him with a fog in his gaze; he placed a hand flat on Minho's stomach and ran his fingers over the muscle there. Minho made a little sound, which turned into a whine when Newt kissed the N tattooed over his heart. "You're beautiful," Newt mumbled into his skin.

"Newt, please," Minho managed. Newt's tongue was tracing the lines of the N. The blonde smirked and lifted his knee up in between Minho's legs. Gasping, Minho tried to rock his hips forward, but Newt planted his hands on his hips to stop him. "Angel, I need you, please."

"Okay," Newt breathed, and it was the most delicious invitation Minho had ever heard.

He crushed his lips to Newt's, grasping at the back of Newt's shirt, and the blonde melted for him. Newt took a step back and they backed into the room, clumsily. They were obsessed with each other, with finding more skin to touch, to kiss, always more. Newt had his fingers tangled deep in Minho's hair, tousling it into a black mess. He gasped Minho's name into his mouth, as though it was a sacred, holy word. Growling, Minho slid one hand up Newt's back, taking his shirt with it; his free hand splayed across Newt's backside, making the blonde moan softly.

"Min," Newt whispered desperately, freeing himself of his shirt just before he was pushed back onto the bed.

Minho held himself over Newt on the mattress, chest rising raggedly with every breath. Lowering his head, he grazed his lips along the ridge of Newt's ear. Stopping at the sensitive place beneath Newt's ear, he scraped his teeth over the skin. Newt tilted his head to the side, sighing in bliss. The sigh melted into a low pleading sound when Minho kissed at the scar beneath his jaw. Minho ran his tongue along it and Newt threaded his fingers into Minho's hair. Pulling Minho's hair rougher than he should have, Newt hooked his legs around Minho and flipped them over. The near-pain jolted along Minho's nerves and had him whimpering in pleasure as Newt straddled his waist.

Newt took Minho's shoulders and tugged to get him to sit up. "C'mere," he gasped out.

Minho pushed himself up, now with Newt on his lap, and looking so edible. "My angel," he breathed, as Newt kissed him again. Newt parted his lips, taking it deeper, and Minho held him around the waist as he drowned in it. They were kissing roughly, deep, and dirty. Teeth pulled at lips, breaths were huffed against each other, Minho was tasting Newt's sugary taste. Newt's fingertips skimmed down his arms, mapping out his biceps. Minho couldn't help but smirk slightly and received a scolding nip at his lips in response. Newt's touch reached his wrists, guiding them away from Newt's waist. At first, Minho couldn't figure out what Newt was doing. But he was so addicted to this kiss that he didn't pull away.

He certainly stopped, though, when he heard a snap and felt something cold around his wrists.

Pausing, Minho drew back and blinked at Newt. The blonde was smirking devilishly at him. "What—?" Minho broke off when he glanced down. He was wearing handcuffs. Raising his eyes back up to Newt again, he stared in shock. "You little shank."

Newt gave a burst of laughter, uncharacteristically dark. There was a sexy glint in his stormy eyes as he shoved Minho back in bed. "Lay down, sweetheart," he said mockingly. "Let me love you." Taking Minho's arms, he pulled them above Minho's head and hooked the chain of the handcuffs around a a carved piece of wood rising up from the headboard.

Minho, with pillows under his back, handcuffs on his wrists, and Newt on top of him, couldn't remember how to breathe. "You didn't," he deadpanned.

"I did," Newt chirped. "Comfortable?"

"As much as I can be in handcuffs."

"Good." Newt leaned down and pecked Minho's lips. "Because I'm not taking them off of you until you beg me to."

Despite himself, Minho started trembling when Newt tugged his pants down. "You think you can make me beg, huh?"

"I know I can," was the sugar-sweet reply.

"Shuckface," Minho muttered. Newt retorted with lazy lick up Minho's abs that drew a gasp out of Minho and had his arms straining against the handcuffs. His breath hitched as Newt tossed him a truly evil smirk. Blue eyes half-lidded, the blonde kissed Minho's chest and languidly rolled their hips together. Minho's head fell back with a whimper at the friction, as Newt continued grinding against him at a torturous pace. "N—Newt," Minho choked out. "T—too slow."

"You think that's slow?" Newt asked, a husky whisper in Minho's ear. "Min, we haven't even started yet."

And he began to show Minho how slow they could go


	19. Chapter 19

-I think I'm on a roll, guys! Here's your new chapter! :)-

-DAY 19: Have a couples date with friends-

They should've picked anyone else. Literally, anyone else would've been better than Thomas and Gally.

-X-X-X-

"How long do you think they've been in there?"

Minho glanced up from where he'd been reading over the menu. Newt was next to him and looking curiously in the direction of the restrooms. Minho shrugged. "I dunno. Why, do you think they got lost or something?" The last question was a joke and he nudged Newt in the side when he said it.

Newt batted his hand away with a growl. "No, I don't think they got lost," he replied pointedly. "But I also don't think it takes this long to go to the bathroom."

The two were seated at a booth in an Olive Garden restaurant. Minho had to admit, it was a nice place. The arcing walls and ceilings were all cream-colored, and there was a constant tantalizing smell of Italian food. He'd have to remember to come here more often. The reason he was there tonight, however, was because he and Newt had agreed to go on a double date with Gally and Thomas. Gally and Thomas had recently gotten together (FINALLY), and they wanted to spend a night out with some of their friends. Completely ignoring Newt's argument that they weren't dating, they were MARRIED, Minho agreed to come.

So here they were.

And Minho was 98% sure that Gally and Thomas were having sex in the restroom right now.

"This is so wrong," Minho muttered, sipping from his water glass.

"I know," Newt deadpanned.

"I mean, Thomas was supposed to be the innocent one of the group. He's always been that way. Now he's getting more action than I am." Then Minho squeaked as Newt punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"THAT'S what you think is wrong about this?" Newt asked incredulously.

Minho lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Well, what am I supposed to say?"

"That you think it's wrong that our best friends are obviously—" Newt stopped then, glancing around, then lowered his voice to a hiss. "Having sex in the restrooms at shucking Olive Garden!"

"I thought you'd like the fact that I'm jealous about getting less action than Thomas," Minho protested. "After all, YOU'RE the reason for that, anyway."

"Oh, shut up. And stop calling it 'action.'"

"What should I call it then?"

"..."

"Exactly."

Newt huffed, sending a glance up toward Heaven. "You're impossible and this is embarrassing," he muttered, picking up his menu again.

"You gonna yell at them when they get back?" Minho asked. He would've loved to see that.

"Nah. But it's gonna be awkward as hell." Newt didn't look up from the menu as he spoke, dark blue eyes flitting across the words.

Minho watched the way Newt chewed on his bottom lip as he thought, the way he'd pulled the too-long sleeves of his turquoise shirt over part of his hands. He always did that, like a little kid, Minho thought fondly. Reaching over, he tugged on Newt's shirt at his shoulder. "Hey."

"Hmm?" Newt glanced up then, eyebrows raised in question.

"Do you remember when we were dating?"

A smile worked onto Newt's lips and he laughed, shaking his head. "We were really stupid," he remarked.

"Yeah, well, most teenagers are stupid," Minho joked, bumping his shoulder against Newt's.

Newt mock-glared at him. "Well, YOU were always getting me into trouble," he accused.

"What?" Minho placed a hand on his chest in exaggerated hurt. "Did not."

"Did too!" Newt argued in comical childishness. "You used to convince me to go out with you to giant parties at Gally's place and we'd stay out all night. My parents hated you."

"Really?"

"Well, once you got into college and grew up, they liked you. Then they couldn't see how crazy you were sometimes."

Minho scoffed. "I was not crazy." Newt shot him a flat look and Minho 'hmphed,' looking away. "Not as crazy as other people, anyway."

"Still crazy." Smiling affectionately all of sudden, Newt leaned his shoulder against Minho's. "Remember when we were in high school?" he asked mischievously. "And even though you were young, you acted like you knew we'd end up getting married."

"I did?" Minho asked in surprise. He thought he'd always treated Newt the best he could, but he'd never thought he'd acted like that, exactly.

"Yeah." Briefly, Newt nosed at Minho's shoulder, as though inhaling his scent from his T-shirt sleeve. "You held doors open for me, and sent me cheesy texts at night, and you always called me 'angel.'" Newt lifted his eyes to Minho's face, golden lashes and hair gleaming under the lights. "And I could always tell, you know."

Minho watched him warily. "Always tell what?"

"That you were obsessed with me." Newt grinned, blushing, and had to look away, even though he'd been the one to say it.

"Was not," Minho sniffed, because he just had to argue.

"Remember how you used to sneak me into janitors' closets to make out before class?" Newt slipped his hand to the back of Minho's neck, stroking his fingers over the short hair he found there. "Sometimes during class?"

Slipping down a bit in the seat, Minho tried not to purr under Newt's touch. "You were very tempting," he mumbled, "so it wasn't entirely my fault."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Min," Newt chuckled. Then Minho glanced over at him with a meaningful look in his eyes. Newt blinked, searching his husband's expression. "What?"

"That's how I know YOU were obsessed with ME."

"What do you mean?"

The corner of Minho's mouth quirked up into a half-grin. "You always called me 'Min.'"

Newt's blush deepened adorably. Sighing defeatedly, he rested his cheek on Minho's shoulder for just a moment. His hand slipped beneath Minho's on his knee and their fingers entwined. "I am obsessed with you," he admitted, and Minho pressed his lips briefly to Newt's hair.

Touching Newt's chin, Minho urged the blonde's head up so that their gazes met. "C'mere," he murmured, and left a short, but sweet kiss on Newt's lips. When he broke it, their foreheads stilled touched.

"I love you," Newt whispered with a lingering smile.

Minho grinned back warmly. "Love you, too, angel."

The couple's stolen moment was interrupted when their friends FINALLY arrived back at the booth. Thomas slid into the seat first, a shy blush heating up his cheeks and his coffee-colored eyes cast downward. Gally sat next to him, black hair a bit rumpled and looking way too smug for his own good. Newt cleared his throat pointedly as the other couple fiddled with their shirtsleeves. "And where were you two?" the blonde asked, making Minho hide a smirk behind his hand.

"Er," Thomas stammered, his blush deepening.

"Bathroom," Gally answered firmly. "It was crowded."

"Uh-huh." Newt didn't sound convinced, but he went back to looking at his menu without another word. Across the table, Gally had leaned over to whisper something in Thomas's ear. The brunette looked like he was biting back a giggle, catching his lower lip in his teeth. Gally's mouth was twisted into a smirk, his lips grazing Thomas's ear. They were sickeningly cute together.

I hope Newt and I aren't like that, Minho thought.

But, well, they were.


	20. Chapter 20

-I'm still writing this! Yes! Inspiration has officially come in the form of Christmas! Yeah, so new warning for this: pretty much all of it will now have to do with winter and Christmas. We've hit that time of the month when I get a little crazy about Christmas cuz it's my favorite holiday to write about. So cozy and romantic feeling! (okay, I'm done. I'm officially fangirling over Christmas -_-) Here. Read this.

-DAY 20: Model new clothes or lingerie for each other-

Lingerie? No. Clothes? Sure, why not?

Or, well, you'll see.

-X-X-X-

"I'm not coming out."

"Aw, come on, Minho!"

"No. This is the worst Christmas present ever."

"It can't be that bad..."

"Getting clothes from your mother for Christmas is ALWAYS bad."

"Stop being so shy and get out here!"

Newt was sitting cross-legged on their bed, in the lamplit bedroom. A wide grin split his face and his blue eyes sparkled eagerly. It was dangerously close to his favorite time of the year: Christmas. In fact, the big night was only a short week away. He already had tons of gifts picked out for Annabelle and a very special present for Minho...but that's a different story, isn't it? No, he wasn't going to get ahead of himself here.

THIS night was all about the presents Minho had gotten from his mother. Mrs. Park was always surprising the Newton's with her goofy, random acts of kindness. Or, er, what she THOUGHT was kindness, but what was sometimes just weird (like the time she called them on the way to their honeymoon to ask if Minho had packed any condoms). This year, as an early gift, she'd sent over neatly wrapped packages of clothes for her son. The note attached to the first box proclaimed that more was coming for Newt later; she just felt like it was more her place to send these kinds of things to her son.

Newt was fine with that, because it gave him an excuse to do this: look at Minho trying on his new clothes and tell him which ones were keepers and which ones needed burned. So far, there'd only been one obnoxiously ugly sweater. Minho didn't care how gay he was, he was NOT wearing a hot pink sweater for Christmas. But there was a very nice, brown leather jacket in there that looked oh-so-delicious on Minho. Newt had had to hold himself back from jumping off the bed and yanking Minho into a kiss right then.

What he REALLY wanted to do was get Minho to show him this newest atrocity he'd apparently found. But Minho had insisted on changing in the smaller bathroom joined to their bedroom; he didn't want Newt to see the new clothes until he was wearing them.

But he was suddenly so shy about whatever he was wearing in there now and Newt was dying to see.

"It can't be more embarrassing than that sweater," Newt called, picking absently at the sheets underneath him.

"Oh, trust me, it's ten times more embarrassing," came the flat reply. "God, I can't. I just can't."

"You have to!" Newt whined. "You promised you'd show me everything."

"I didn't know she bought me...this." Newt could hear the grimace in Minho's voice.

"Minho," Newt began drily, "I've seen you in ugly sweaters, sweaty track T-shirts, and nothing at all. I don't think it can get much worse than that."

"I thought you liked it when I wore nothing at all," Minho protested.

Newt rolled his eyes, despite the fact that Minho couldn't see him. "C'mon, already, Min."

"No. I can't let you see me like this."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my husband and you will remember this forever."

"Damn right. Get out of that bathroom before I come in."

"...okay."

Grinning in triumph, Newt shifted to face the bathroom door a little more. His smile widened as the door creaked open, and then Minho came shuffling glumly out, and Newt could not stop laughing. He really couldn't stop; one look at Minho and he was laughing so hard, his ribs ached. "Oh...my...GOD!" he gasped out. "Those are RIDICULOUS!"

Minho just sighed, because he'd already known. His mother had struck again. He was wearing nothing but bright red—like, PAINFULLY red—boxer briefs that resembled Santa-style shorts. With a printed-on belt and white snowflakes all over them. It was, by far, the most hilarious thing Newt had ever seen in his life.

"Bloody...Shuck...I can't stop...laughing..."

Minho flushed hotly. "Well, you have to stop," he huffed. "Because it's making this worse." He crossed his arms over his chest and sulked.

"Awww, baby," Newt crooned between giggles. "They aren't so bad. I have a thing for Santa anyway."

"AND handcuffs?" Minho asked with a raised eyebrow.

Resting his elbows on his knees, Newt just bit his lip over his little smile. "Maybe I'll have to get those out again," he suggested wickedly. "You'd kinda make a sexy Santa."

"Never say that again," Minho replied. "I'd rather wear these than be compared to a sexy Santa."

"Who do you wanna be compared to then?"

"No one."

Newt's smile became more genuine and he unfolded his legs to slip off the bed. Looping his arms loosely around Minho's waist, he felt the bare skin above Minho's waistband at his back. "Okay. I won't compare you to anyone then," he murmured. "My Minho." He tucked his head into the crook of Minho's neck.

Sighing defeatedly, Minho rubbed his hands up and down Newt's arms. "Okay," he muttered. "Can I take these off now?"

"Yeah," Newt purred out, as Minho massaged the back of his neck. "You need help with that?" He nuzzled Minho's neck, before nipping at the warm skin.

Minho's breath hitched. "Depends," he managed. "Are you really gonna use the handcuffs again?"

"I think I'll let YOU decide." Newt ran his nose up the side of Minho's neck, inhaling that burnt-wood scent he positively loved. "Naughty or nice?"

Okay, maybe that Christmas present wasn't so bad after all.


	21. Chapter 21

-I gotta new chapter for you guys! Thank you so very much for the reviews. They really inspire me to keep writing for you. As always, I hope you enjoy the story :)-

-DAY 21: Rent a hotel room to get away from your regular routine for a night-

Minho was ecstatic to get a night away with Newt and Belle.

However, needless to say, every night can have some...unexpected events.

-X-X-X-

The hotel was beautiful, the night was young, and Newt was stunning. Minho couldn't think of a better way to spend his Friday.

The Newton's were walking through the glass doors of a lovely hotel close to Glade City. It wasn't overly extravagant, but it wasn't too shabby either. The carpet under their feet was deep, rich red and the walls were warm-colored too. There were other people there, of course, lingering by the front desk or heading for their rooms; it put a light buzz of conversation in the air and a pleasant feeling to the night. Minho was happy.

He was especially happy because this had all been HIS idea. What a brilliant person he was.

"Slow down, Belle!" Newt called to the redheaded girl skipping ahead of them. "The room's not gonna go anywhere before we get to it."

"I know!" Belle replied cheerily. She gave a little spin in her skipping, hair and navy dress wheeling about her.

"So, why're you going so fast?"

"I just like skipping!"

Newt exchanged a glance with Minho. "She just likes skipping," he stated flatly, a quirk to his mouth.

Minho chuckled, slinging his fingers in his jeans pockets. "I wonder where she gets that from."

"Probably you," Newt joked, and elbowed Minho in the ribs.

"I do not skip." Minho batted Newt in the arm scoldingly.

"You totally do," Newt replied. "I've seen it."

"You must've been drunk at the time."

"YOU must've been drunk at the time."

Minho couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Shut up," he snickered, circling his arm around Newt's waist and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. Affection filled his heart for the blonde.

"Make me—Oh, wait, you're really warm." Pressing himself into Minho's side as they walked, Newt encouraged Minho to keep his arm around him. A soft purr of delight left the blonde's throat as they walked with sides squished together.

Minho grinned. Newt was like a little kitten in his arms. "Really warm," he repeated in mock thoughtfulness. "Is that your shy way of saying I'm hot in public?"

"Whatever," Newt replied noncommittally. He slid his eyes slowly over Minho, from head to toe, knowing how much it would turn Minho on. It was like a physical touch gliding over his skin and Minho shivered. "Mrs. Park does send the best Christmas presents," Newt remarked, after taking in the brown leather jacket Minho was wearing. "I think I have a new weakness for you in leather."

Minho gasped then, because Newt had snuck a hand up the back of his shirt and jacket, and was running his fingers over Minho's lower back. "Quit it," he managed. He couldn't concentrate when he physically ACHED for Newt's hands on him.

"Sorry," Newt murmured, not sounding sorry at all. He looked away, but with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Newt had been getting very flirtatious lately and Minho was gonna have to do something about that.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a pained yelp ahead of them. Belle had tripped over a fold in the carpet. She now sat up from where she'd landed hard on her knees and rubbed her elbow. As soon as she raised glistening green eyes to her fathers' faces, Minho knew what was going to happen. "Daddy," she whined and then she was crying softly, tears staining her cheeks. Several people paused walking by, concern in their gazes.

"Oh, Annabelle," Newt said at once, hurrying over to her and kneeling down. "You can't go so fast. Where does it hurt?"

"M—m—my knees," she sniffled. There was a bruise already forming on one and the other was scraped painfully.

Minho crouched on Belle's other side and stroked her hair. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he soothed, as she continued to cry between her fathers. "It's okay. I'll make it better." He glanced over at Newt. "You think they have Band-Aids here?"

"They have to," Newt replied, hand on Belle's shoulder. "What hotel doesn't have Band-Aids?"

"We should probably get one on her knee."

"Yeah. I'll go and—"

"Am I gonna bleed to death, Daddy?" Belle asked abruptly, her face still crumpled and tearstained.

Minho had to try not to laugh a little, because it was too endearing, in a sad way. Newt blinked at his daughter in surprise. "Oh—no, honey, you won't bleed to death," he reassured her. "It's just a scratch, that's all."

"B—but you h—hurt your leg and it d—didn't get better."

Newt could only stare at her. "Well...that was—"

And they were all cut off by someone's hand appearing in front of them. It was holding a lollipop in a bright pink wrapper. Belle sniffed and blinked up at the stranger in surprise. Minho and Newt did the same. It was an old woman, her skin wrinkled as old book pages and wearing a pale blue turtleneck. She smiled sweetly down at Belle with warm, brown eyes. "Here you are, sweetie," she croaked in a worn voice. "Do you like lollipops?"

Belle rubbed her cheek with a hand. "Y—yeah," she stammered.

"Well then, here you go. Something to cheer you up, hmm?"

"Thank you." Belle accepted the gift, holding the lollipop carefully in both hands. Looking up at the old woman again, she gave a tiny smile.

"There," the old woman said fondly. "No more crying." Then she lifted a finger importantly. "Now, don't go ruining your dinner with that candy without asking your parents first." Her smile was sent to Minho and Newt.

"Okay." Belle nodded once. Then she took Newt's hand as he helped her stand up and smoothed down her dress.

Minho straightened too, but his gaze was still on the old woman. "I...Thanks," he told her sheepishly.

She waved a hand at him like it was no big deal. "Oh, don't worry about it," she replied. "Everyone needs some cheering up now and then."

"Well, it was very nice of you."

Tilting her head at him, she smiled. "You're very sweet," she commented, as though she didn't think she deserved his compliment. Then she glanced at Newt, who had joined the two after checking in with Belle. "How long have you two been married?" At the raised eyebrows she received, she chuckled. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. I know a couple when I see one."

Newt lowered his gaze bashfully. "About four years," he replied. "We've been married four years."

"How lovely. And the little one, how old is she?"

"About seven," Minho answered. "She was an orphan, so they don't know her exact age."

"Well, she is just a sweetheart," the old woman replied warmly. She glanced between the two of them. "You should be proud to be her family. She's lucky to have caring parents like you two."

Newt blushed. "Thanks."

Nodding once, she started to shuffle past them. Minho watched her creaky movements, feeling a bit lighter about the people in the world. Pausing next to Newt, the old woman leaned over and whispered too-loudly to him, "and watch out for this one, dear." She pointed at Minho. "MUCH too handsome for his own good." Patting his arm, she continued on, leaving Newt pink in the cheeks.

As soon as she was gone, Minho grinned at his husband. "I like her."


	22. Author's Note

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry for this not being an update, but I swear, I'll be updating very soon! I just wanted to let you guys know something cuz I don't know if you read my profile changes, haha. But I'm on Instagram now so just look for the username heroes_fly and that's me! My drawing skills aren't THAT good though so... XD


	23. Chapter 23

-I like this one. It was cute to write. XD Sorry for such a long wait, guys. The Internet was choosing to escape me again -_-. Anyway, here's more of your Minewt and thank you again for the marvelous reviews ;)-

-DAY 22: Make a list of the reasons you love them and share it-

Minho was very disappointed, because he'd thought the whole Pinterest-relationship-advice thing was done already.

-X-X-X-

"No, get away from me."

"Minho, you have to do it."

"No I don't. This is stupid."

"It is not. It's going to help us."

"We don't need hel—Hey!"

The argument was ended quite effectively by Newt darting from his place across the couch and pretty much tackling Minho. Minho squeaked in annoyance at having been trapped, the blonde pinning him to where he'd been laying down on the couch. Newt was easily able to stretch himself out on top of Minho, chin on his chest, and give him a stern look. "Now, you HAVE to do it," he declared triumphantly, lacing his fingers together on top of Minho's chest. "No arguments."

"Newwwwt," Minho whined, squirming a bit under him. But even though Minho was stronger, he couldn't move the blonde laying on top of him. (And he also couldn't deny how much he enjoyed the press of their stomachs or the twining of their legs on the couch cushions) "I didn't wanna do any more Pinterest relationship crap tonight."

"What did you wanna do then? Just sit on the couch all night and watch TV? That's boring." Newt emphasized this point with a pout, lower lip sticking out. His sooty blue eyes were round like a puppy's begging for attention; the puppy feeling was added to by the soft gray sweatpants he wore, his legs tangled with Minho's.

Minho sighed huffily. "It's not BORING," he protested. "That wasn't all I was gonna do anyway."

"What else were you planning then?" Newt asked drily.

"...sitting and looking at the beautiful Christmas tree you put up."

"Flattery isn't going to get you out of this."

"Did I mention how cute you look right now?"

"Still not working."

Minho bit his lip as he tried to think of a way out of this. It'd be different if it was any other Pinterest relationship challenge. But this one was giving a list of REASONS WHY YOU LOVE THEM. He was unprepared, and didn't have a list, and he was gonna have to think one up off the top of his head. He really didn't want to. Newt started to shift on top of him, searching for a folded piece of paper he'd been keeping, and Minho panicked. "Wait," he tried as a last attempt, and wrapped his arms around Newt's waist to trap him. "What if I said I would die if we did this?"

Sighing heavily, Newt gave him a flat look. "You're not gonna die, Minho."

"What if I said I was extremely turned on right now and I need you?"

"I'd say you can wait for two minutes while you read a list why you freaking love me, you shank."

"Well, I didn't even WRITE the list yet," Minho argued, "so this whole thing is kinda pointless until I do that."

Newt just gave him a shove in the arm. "You can come with it on the spot, can't you?" he asked in mock sweetness. At Minho's scowl, Newt flashed a bright smile and pecked his husband's nose. Then he tugged at Minho's T-shirt sleeve. "Okay, c'mon, get up. We're doing this."

"Uggghhh," Minho groaned again as Newt forced him to shift up into a sitting position with his back against the couch's arm. He definitely wasn't looking forward to this. But he had to admit, he was slightly brightened when Newt clambered up to sit in his lap; between his outstretched legs and back to his chest. He wondered if Newt felt his heartbeat skip when the blonde rested an absent hand on Minho's thigh.

"Okay, now don't read over my shoulder," Newt said with a warning tug at Minho's jeans over his knee.

"Fine, fine." But Minho smirked playfully and leaned forward to peer over Newt's shoulder as he unfolded the list.

"Hey!" Newt scolded and elbowed Minho in the ribs. "Come on, Min."

Laughing, Minho backed off, leaving only a kiss on Newt's ear. "Okay. Go on, then, read your shucking list."

He could practically hear Newt rolling his eyes in his voice. "Okay, um," he started, scanning over the notes he'd written. "There's five of them."

"There's only five reasons you love me?"

"Shut it, I didn't feel like boring you with more." Newt smoothed the paper between his fingers, settling in against Minho's chest. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he read the first one. "You make me laugh."

Minho thought. "I make a lot of people laugh."

"Are you going to comment on every reason I give you?" Newt asked.

"Yep." Wrapping his arms around Newt's waist, Minho grinned. "Carry on."

There was a muttered, "shuckface," before Newt went back to his list. "Um. You're great with Belle."

Minho had to nuzzle his face into the back of Newt's neck at that one, to hide his proud smile. He loved Belle and he had a huge soft spot for his daughter. He also really really loved that Newt had noticed that. "Can't argue with that," he said lightly, leaning back again. "I am pretty great."

"And humble too," Newt remarked, sarcasm oozing out of his words. But then he read the next reason. "This one says, uh... I don't remember writing this." He sighed. "Well, it's not very deep or anything, but, it says, 'I love your looks too.'"

There was a silence for a moment. Suspicious, Newt glanced back. Then he groaned, because Minho was smirking knowingly at him. "Shut up," Newt muttered.

"I didn't say anything," Minho protested.

"Your ego did."

"Whatever." Minho snuck a peek over Newt's shoulder again, earning him a growl of annoyance. "What, specifically, do you love about my looks?"

"When you don't talk about them."

"Jeez, fine. I like it better when YOU talk about them anyway."

"Moron." Lifting the paper again, Newt skimmed a finger down to the fourth reason. Some of the play left him then. He stiffened briefly against Minho before forcing himself to relax. "I love...how you still accept me, after everything. I love that you still treat me like I'm...the only person you see, even though I have a limp, and the Flare, and I've been..." He trailed off and he almost avoided the word again, the way he always did. But then his voice strengthened and he finished. "And I've been raped."

Minho blinked. Instinctively, he reached for the scar on Newt's wrist. "Newt..."

Flinching at the first touch, Newt let Minho curl his fingers around his wrist. The scar was rough under his fingertips. "You know that I wouldn't let something like that change how I feel," Minho murmured, placing his lips on Newt's neck. "I hate what he did, but I don't hate you. I could never stop loving you."

Twisting on the couch, Newt turned just enough to look up at Minho. Minho paused, unsure of what Newt wanted. "That's the last reason I love you," Newt said with a small smile. "You couldn't stop loving me."

Minho had to smile back. The warmth lighting up his heart for the blonde at this moment was incredible. It was nearly unbearable sometimes, his love for Newt. Sinking his fingers into Newt's hair, he pulled him in for a short kiss. Newt melted into him, a hand wandering up to hook in Minho's neckline. When he broke it, Minho kept their foreheads touching. "That was a wonderful shucking list, shank," he muttered jokingly.

Newt laughed and curled himself in closer on Minho's lap. "Thought you'd like it," he replied, tucking his head up against Minho's chest. "Now it's your turn."

Minho stroked a hand down Newt's arm, sighing in defeat. "Okay, fine. Let me think..."


	24. Chapter 24

Yas! Newt's Pinterest challenge is back! Thank you for the lovely reviews and for reading this little story. You guys are awesome. :)-

-DAY 23: Spend a tech-free day together-

Poor Minho.

-X-X-X-

"NEWT!"

Newt heard the frantic shout from in the kitchen, where he was currently doing dishes, along with a whole lot of banging and thumps coming from his bedroom. He knew exactly what Minho had found and he'd been preparing for this to happen. So, he just picked up another plate and dunked it in the soapy water. Minho was just going to have to learn.

"NEWT! WHAT—WHERE—?"

Minho evidently gave up on words, because next, there was just his marching footsteps in the hall. Then Newt heard hands plant on the doorway to the kitchen and knew that Minho was standing there. He didn't even turn around from his dishwashing. "What's the matter, love?" he asked in his sweetest, most innocent voice.

"Where's my phone?" Minho asked, sounding like it was a matter of life or death.

"Phone?"

"Yes, phone, don't play dumb with me, you know what a phone is. Where is it?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Glancing over his shoulder then, Newt offered Minho an angelic smile.

Minho didn't look amused. He narrowed his eyes at Newt in comical suspicion. "Bull. Shit."

"Swearing isn't very ladylike," Newt quipped and wagged a scolding finger at Minho.

"Dang it, Newt, why'd you steal my phone?" Minho ran a hand over his flawlessly spiked hair, a nervous habit. He seemed to do that a lot when separated from his technology.

"Pinterest told me to," Newt replied simply.

"WHAT?" Minho's jaw dropped and then he hung his head with a loud groan. Sinking his hands forlornly in his jeans pockets, he fixed Newt with a tired look. "What does it say to do this time?" he asked.

"It's not HARD," Newt said with a shrug. "We just have to spend a tech-free day together."

"Oh, that's all?" Minho threw his hands up in frustration. "I guess that means we can't watch TV either."

"Yup."

"Guess we can't see Downton Abbey..."

"Downton Abbey comes on on Sunday's, Min."

"Dammit."

Grinning in triumph, Newt rinsed off a plate with the water-sprayer (sprayer? Hose? Is that what it was called?) beside the sink and set it down on a rack beside the others. He paused to roll up the sleeves of his cream-colored shirt. "Now that you're freaking out is over," he began cheekily, "you wanna help me out over here?"

"Not really," Minho muttered. He sounded like he'd just lost his best friend.

Newt shot him a wry look over his shoulder. "Minho..."

"OKAYYY FINNNNE." Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Minho trudged across the kitchen to Newt's side. He stopped there and examined the stacks of dirty dishes, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "What if I helped you out by keeping Belle occupied in her room?"

"You don't really wanna play with her," Newt accused. "You just wanna get out of doing dishes and let your incredibly tired husband do it all by himself."

Minho planted a hand on Newt's head in response and tousled his hair all up; Newt squawked and moved away from him. "You are not 'incredibly tired.'" But he picked up a bowl anyway and placed it in the soap bubbles in the sink.

"I am though." Newt took on a whiney voice and leaned his shoulder heavily against Minho's. "I had to take my Flare medicine this morning and my leg hurrrrrts..."

"How dare you use your limp, which doesn't not bother you AT ALL, to get me to slave away for you." Smirking, Minho quickly ducked down and tickled Newt behind the knee of his bad leg.

Newt giggled like a toddler, jerking his leg away. "Hey! I am crippled here! You should WANT to slave away for me."

"I'm yours to command, Your Highness," Minho joked.

Newt brightened. "Yes, you are. Wash this, peasant." He plucked up a wooden spoon imperiously.

"Peasant?" Minho echoed, accepting the spoon with a washcloth. "Wow, you're already letting power go to your head."

"Do not question me."

"Whatever you say."'

"Dry this too."

"Of course."

"And this."

"Mmhm."

"No, never mind, put that down. I have a new assignment for you."

Raising his eyebrows, Minho set the plate he was holding back down into the water. He turned an expectant gaze on Newt, leaning an elbow on the counter's edge. Newt was biting his lip, head cocked so that honeyed hair fell into his eyes. He crossed an ankle coyly over the other and tipped up his chin. "Kiss me."

Minho barked a laugh. "But, your Majesty, I'm just a lowly servant," he protested, splaying a hand dramatically over his chest. But the flirtatious smile on his face told a different story.

"Which means you have to do what I say," Newt returned.

"You really want someone like me?"

Newt sidled a step closer, bringing himself within inches of Minho. "I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you," he replied in a dramatic murmur.

Something deep and endless lit in Minho's dark eyes. Pushing off the counter, he cupped Newt's jaw, rubbing his fingertips softly back and forth. Newt let himself melt, a slow sigh parting his lips. Minho placed a tiny kiss on the corner of Newt's mouth, eliciting a small noise from the back of Newt's throat. Then he kissed Newt properly, urging his lips apart and tilting his head. Newt drowned in it. His fingers wandered and hooked in Minho's belt loop to pull him closer. They were kissing slowly, lazily, Minho's hands moving to the back of Newt's neck. The dishwashing was forgotten, at least for a moment. Newt took Minho's upper lip between his teeth, grinning when he heard Minho whimper in response. Unnoticed, he slipped his hand toward the sink and the sprayer resting there.

Suddenly, New cranked the handle of the sink, turning the water on, and sprayed Minho full in the face. "What the—?!" Minho yelped, jerking backward with eyes squeezed shut. "Aw, you little SHANK..." Letting go of Newt, he wiped the dripping water out of his eyes.

"That's what you get for complaining so much," Newt snickered, holding the sprayer up. He raised one eyebrow at Minho's damp hair. "I think your hair lost some spike."

"What?" Minho touched his hair once. Then he glared at Newt darkly. "You're dead," he told him matter-of-factly.

Newt inched back a step as Minho advanced on him. "Don't you dare. I'm armed and I know how to use this." He aimed the sprayer at Minho threateningly.

"I dare you," Minho challenged. A wicked smirk danced over his lips. Then he lunged forward.

Yelping in fear, Newt didn't think before his thumb pressed down on the lever of the sprayer. Then the sprayer was tangled between them as they struggled to be the one to use it, laughing like teenagers. Water spurted everywhere. Mostly, it rained all over them. Newt's shirt was drenched within seconds, the wide neck slipping off of one shoulder. His hair wasn't much better and strands clung to his forehead.

He didn't feel too bad about it though, because he'd managed to get revenge on Minho. Minho was completely soaked from head to toe, as he wasn't the best at mock-fights with Newt anymore (not after Newt had figured out that he was ticklish). His hair had lost all notions of looking good and was a rumpled, wet mess of black. Boyish triumph made Newt laugh out loud as Minho snatched again at the sprayer and nailed Newt in the back of the head. "Okay, okay, truce!" he protested, lifting his hands to cover his face. "Truce!"

"There are no truces in war!" Minho declared, and stuck the head of the sprayer down the back of Newt's shirt.

Icy water raced down his back and Newt squeaked, squirming under Minho's hold on his arm. "Minho!"

"Should've thought twice before you attacked me!"

"St—stop!" Twisting away from Minho, Newt made to back up against the counter. Suddenly, his foot slipped on the water-slicked floor and he scrabbled to grab something to stop his fall. Unfortunately, the counter was just as wet and his fingers raked uselessly across it on his way to the floor.

Minho was there in a second, snaking an arm around Newt's waist and catching the blonde up against himself. Newt let out a gasp as he was pressed protectively to Minho's chest. They stood like that for a minute, catching their breath and dripping water onto the floor. Newt's hands found themselves in their usual place at Minho's shoulders. A funny sort of shiver crawled from his toes to his shoulders at the near-fall. "You okay?" Minho asked, his voice a low vibration against Newt's chest.

"Yeah," Newt breathed out. "Thanks."

"Of course." Minho said it in a way that really meant, of course I caught you. I always will.

Newt realized then that they were still alone in the kitchen, which was miraculous, as Belle had to have heard their childish fighting. But she'd remained in her room and here they were, both looking like they'd just been dunked in a lake. Newt took advantage of Minho's arm still around him. He was busy staring at the line of Minho's collarbone, starkly visible through his white, soaked-through T-shirt; and then his chest, and down his hard stomach, and the slim lines of his waist above his hips, and his long legs, and...

Minho effortlessly halted Newt's thoughts by touching the tip of his ear with an index finger. Newt's body tensed up. Glancing up at Minho, he saw the way his dark-chocolate-colored eyes had softened looking down at Newt. Then Minho's fingertip moved, tracing the ridge of Newt's ear, and Newt's eyelids shut with a sigh. The tip of Minho's finger traveled from his ear to his neck. It tenderly ran along the raised flesh of his scar just beneath his jaw, causing Newt's head to tip to the side. Then it was moving lower, skimming the curve of his throat and his bare shoulder above his slipped-down shirt at that side. It hooked in the edge of the fabric and pulled it lower, baring more of his shoulder. Newt was held in place by just one fingertip; he still couldn't comprehend the power Minho had over him.

Slow and soft, Minho bent his head and touched his lips to Newt's shoulder. A tiny exhaled, "Minho," came from Newt's throat, but he was soon in no condition to speak. Minho was kissing his shoulder, mouth hot against Newt's cool skin. The sensation of teeth sinking just enough into his skin drew a whine from him. Minho licked a drop of water from Newt's collarbone showing above his shirt, before mouthing up his neck, and Newt's knees gave out. Minho took his weight, arms strong around his waist. Newt could feel the curve of Minho's smug smile against his jaw.

Minho lightly bit the curve of his ear. "Min," Newt whimpered.

"God, I love you," Minho sighed into his ear.

Newt looped his arms around Minho's neck and closed the distance between them. The kiss opened up and he drowned. Minho's palms pressed into the small of his back, reeling their bodies closer. Newt sucked a water droplet from Minho's lower lip and slid his hands from Minho's shoulders down to his hips. He snuck his hands lower to press at Minho's backside, pulling their hips together. A low moan came from Minho's throat and Newt grinned against his mouth.

"You're beautiful," Minho mumbled into the kiss, reaching up and tangling his fingers in Newt's damp hair. "So shucking beautiful."

Minho's hips ground suggestively into his and Newt gasped. "Say my name," he whispered, as Minho traced kisses to the tip of his nose and the corners of his mouth.

"Newt," Minho breathed, his voice full of absolute adoration. "Isaac. Angel." Reaching down, he curled his hands under the backs of Newt's thighs and lifted him up; Newt wrapped his legs around Minho's waist, his fingers slipping up into Minho's hair. He pressed their mouths together and groaned when Minho's tongue found his. Minho's back hit a wall and they kissed wildly against it, Newt still entangled with Minho. Neither could breathe, but they weren't stopping. Minho was making the most delicious sounds at Newt's kisses, making Newt's knees weak. He wished that they were somewhere private, somewhere he could take their wet clothes off and wreck Minho against the wall.

They were both still drunk with each other when footsteps pattered in the hall. Newt drew back quickly. "Belle," he said.

"Damn," Minho muttered. But he let Newt slide his legs from Minho's waist and set his feet back on the floor. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Newt reluctantly took a step back, putting space between them. He saw Minho tremble slightly with the want to touch him again.

The footsteps grew louder, until Belle poked her head in the doorway, beaming widely. Then she glanced at the mess of the soaked kitchen floor, then her equally soaked fathers, and her green eyes widened. "Whooooaaaa!" she exclaimed. "What were you guys doing?"

Minho and Newt glanced at each other, then back at her. Newt was blushing. Finally, the two both answered simply at the same time:

"Cleaning."


	25. Chapter 25

-New chapter! This one's pretty short, sorry! But I thought it was a decent length for just a moment between these two. I hope you enjoy it! More coming soon!-

-DAY 24: Pull out old pictures from your early dating days, and revisit the honeymoon phase-

Old pictures of Minho were adorable.

-X-X-X-

"Oh my God, look at this one."

Minho blinked as Newt poked a picture under his nose, pointing gleefully at its contents. "Whoa, this is old," he remarked, taking it from Newt's grasp and examining it. It was a picture of the couple at a high school track meet, wearing the matching T-shirts and with Minho's arm around Newt's shoulders. From the way they stood with space between them and the casual smiles, Minho guessed that this was from before they'd even started dating.

"I know, right?" Newt asked happily. "I don't even think we were together yet. I'm happy you talked me into doing track."

Minho smiled, lowering the picture to the growing pile on the coffee table before them. "I'm happy I did too."

"Why?"

"I got to watch you change in the locker room."

"Jerk," Newt laughed, elbowing Minho's arm.

The two were seated on the couch side by side, an open box lying next to Newt. Inside of it, were countless pictures from high school, college, and every other time they'd been friends or together. There were others with Gally, Thomas, and other friends too, but they were mainly focused on ones of them. Newt had discovered the box in the back of a closet and decided that they must go through it.

Minho didn't mind. It was nice to do something like this with Newt. There was something wonderful about looking at old pictures with Belle's voice in the background and their own house around them.

"Ha! You look hilarious!" Newt crowed. He chose a picture from the stack and held it up. It showed a very grumpy Minho, clothes soaked and an ice cube on his shoulder; it had been from the day they'd done the Ice Bucket Challenge. Minho hadn't been too happy to have a bucket of icy water thrown on top of him.

"Wow, I was mad at you," Minho remarked, taking the picture and studying it.

"For what?" Newt asked, wrinkling his nose as he searched for another picture.

Minho tugged lightly at the sleeve of Newt's white shirt. "It was your idea to do the challenge in the first place."

Newt flapped a hand in response. "Whatever, I didn't hear you complain—Oh my shuck, look at this!" He snatched up a picture and stuck it in Minho's face. "It's from the summer together before college, remember?"

Minho's eyebrows rose; the picture showed Newt and him knee-deep in pool water, laughing in each other's arms. Both were shirtless, in swim trunks and golden sunlight. "Hey, is that the pool out by Thomas's old house?" he asked, accepting the picture with a growing smile.

"I dunno, but I love it," Newt declared. Resting his shoulder against Minho's, he admired the photo dreamily. "Look at my handsome husband." He pointed a finger at the image of a sun-kissed Minho.

Minho chuckled as Newt nuzzled into his neck affectionately. "You're so lucky I put up with you," he joked. "Do I still look like that?"

"Nah." Newt placed a kiss on Minho's neck, beneath his jaw. "You got taller and your hair's a little longer, I think." Laughing, he poked Minho lightly in the stomach. "You definitely didn't get fat."

"Lucky for you," Minho quipped. Then he yelped as Newt dug tickling fingers into his side. "Shank!" Squirming under the probing fingertips, he slung an arm around Newt's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Newt's tickling faltered, then stopped as he kissed back with a sigh. For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Then Minho drew back from the kiss and smiled. "I was kidding, angel," he murmured. "I'm the lucky one."


	26. Chapter 26

Cuteness! These chapters have been turning short and sweet lately. I'm sorry about the length, but this story's starting to wind down toward the end, haha. The last chapter will be really cute and at least a little longer, I swear. For now, read on :)-

-DAY 25: Go for a run, take a hike, do yoga, or work out with each other-

NEVER AGAIN.

-X-X-X-

"Oh my God, I'm dead."

Those were the first words Newt said when he made it back into the living room and threw himself face-first onto the couch. He stayed there, sprawled out and with an arm dangling over the side. Another exhausted groan left him.

Minho gave a breathless laugh when he caught sight of Newt's tired limbs. "Oh, c'mon, it wasn't that bad," he said, standing at the arm of the couch with hands on his hips. There was a satisfying ache in his muscles when he lifted his arms for a lazy stretch.

"It was HORRIBLE," Newt moaned, muffled by the couch cushions. "I think part of me died forever."

"You're more of a wimp than I thought you were."

"Am not."

"Mmhm," Minho hummed noncommittally. Arms still above his head he slanted a glance down at Newt. A smile spread over his lips at the blonde looking all cute in blue gym shorts and a black Underarmour T-shirt. Minho couldn't say he didn't love how that shirt clung to every lean muscle in Newt's form.

Newt grunted a complaint when Minho plunked down onto the couch next to him. Minho stuck his hand on top of Newt's head and tousled his hair. "At least you didn't faint," he pointed out. "I don't think I could've carried you the whole way back."

"How do you do that every day?" Newt demanded, not bothering to lift up his head. His arm waved feebly to bat Minho's hand away.

"Well, I don't do that EVERY day. I mean, I never have to carry Belle for half the run."

As if on cue, Annabelle bounced into the room, ponytail flying and her little sneakers thumping on the floor. Her eyes were sparkling when she beamed over at her dad. "That was awesome!" she cheered. "Let's go again!"

Newt made a pained sound and Minho grimaced. "I don't think we'll go again right now, sweetheart," he replied. "Daddy's worn out."

"Tomorrow then!" Belle declared. Spinning on a heel, she scampered into the kitchen to find her water bottle. "I could run FOREVER!"

Minho decided not to tell her that her running skills were partly because he had carried her on his shoulders for a good three-quarters of the actual run. THAT had been hard. Sighing, he switched from messing up Newt's hair to smoothing his fingers through it. He paused to massage the nape of Newt's neck and the blonde whimpered in gratitude. "You did good," Minho remarked. "I better watch out or soon you'll be stronger than me."

"That'll be the day," Newt muttered in disbelief. Gathering his arms under him, he propped himself up on his stomach. Tired blue eyes admired the lines beneath Minho's tank top, which showed off his biceps fantastically. Newt leaned his cheek against Minho's arm and closed his eyes. "I'd have to give up being lazy to get as strong as you and I don't think I can do that," he joked.

"True," Minho agreed, mischief in his voice. "You did make it back last today, after all."

"You were only a foot ahead of me!" Newt protested. Minho snickered and Newt shoved him in the shoulder. "I have a LIMP!"

"Oh, typical, blame the limp," Minho laughed. Then his laughter doubled when Newt pounced on him. The blonde pushed him down onto the couch by laying on top of him, folded arms resting on his chest. Minho let himself be shoved back onto the couch cushions and grinned up at Newt. Newt growled at his husband's amusement. "Take it back."

"Never."

"Minho."

"What're you gonna do, tickle me to death?" Minho leaned up to place a kiss on Newt's nose.

Newt grimaced, then sighed. "I can't stay mad at you," he mumbled, resting his cheek on Minho's chest.

"You're too amazingly in love with me."

"I'm too tired."


	27. Chapter 27

-Here's your new chapter, guys! We're getting closer to the end of this story, and I'm so happy that you're enjoying this. This chapter got a little sidetracked from the actual challenge, but it's still fluffy and romantic so... CX. Let me know what you think! :)-

-DAY 26: Make a playlist for each other. Pick songs that mean something to you both.-

Minho sang them all to Newt.

-X-X-X-

Newt leaned against the wall in the hallway and closed his eyes. He stayed there, a wide smile playing on his lips. He never wanted to move.

Minho was in the shower and he was singing Unchained Melody.

"Ohh, my love...my darling...I've hungered for your touch..."

God, his voice was liquid chocolate. Newt was practically melting into a puddle against the wall. The only thing keeping him from joining his silver-tongued husband in the shower was Belle. She was eating breakfast in the kitchen right now, already showered and dressed for the day with her hair in braids. She was too young for him to leave her alone for an hour (or two), especially if he was planning on spending that time having shower-sex with Minho.

It's the best kind though, he thought gloomily. He tried for one minute to get himself composed enough to walk away from the bathroom door. Minho's voice filtered through like honey spilling. "Agh, I can't listen to this," Newt muttered, tearing himself from the wall and marching away down the hall. Two more seconds of this, and he would be breaking the door down. Passing the clock in the living room, he passed a glance up at it. "Annabelle, are you ready for school yet?" he asked. He emerged into the kitchen to see her in her little jeans and zebra-striped shirt.

"Yup!" she answered adjusting the straps of her backpack on her shoulders. "I brushed my teeth in the kitchen cuz Dad's still in the bathroom."

"And I don't think he'll be out anytime soon," Newt mumbled under his breath. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt; he hadn't gotten a shower yet and still had bedhead and pj's. Working from home translated to getting to take his time getting ready in the morning. "The bus is probably coming soon. Do you have everything?"

"Yeah, Daddy, I'm not dumb," she replied with a playful eye-roll that made him chuckle. "I got all my homework."

"Okay. What about that project you were doing last night?"

"It's in a folder in my bag too."

"All right, well, sounds like you have everything. Um..." Newt racked his brain for whatever else she might need. "The bus might be coming soo—Oh wait." From the cracked-open front door, there came the sound of an engine rumbling down the street. "There it is."

Belle's eyes widened. "I gotta go!" she exclaimed, darting around him and out the kitchen.

Amused with her excitement, Newt hurried after her. He watched her braids bounce as she ran up to the door and pulled it open. He never grew tired of seeing his daughter off to school. The bright yellow of the bus was waiting outside when he caught up with her on the wide porch. "Okay, sweetheart," he said, kneeling down next to her. "Have a great day. Don't get into trouble."

"I won't, promise," Belle replied with a radiant smile. "Love you, Daddy." Jumping forward, she flung her arms around his neck.

Newt grinned and hugged her back. "Love you, too," he murmured and placed a kiss on the side of her head. From over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the windows of the bus. There was a boy in one, watching them with a disgusted look on his face. As Newt watched, the boy turned around and said something to the boy next to him. Newt looked away, telling himself it was foolish to feel embarrassed when they were just elementary school kids. "Belle? Are you still having trouble with kids at school?"

Belle drew back. "Daddy, I gotta go," she protested, bouncing up and down on her toes.

She'd avoided the question. Newt sighed. "All right, go ahead." He stood up to watch her run down the steps and along the stone path to the street. A sad cloud had fallen over his heart. There were even homophobes among elementary school children. Sometimes, on his worse days, he wondered if Belle would've had an easier life at school if her parents had been like every other kids' parents. But he always regretted thinking it afterward. Annabelle was his and Minho's, as much as a biological child was to their parents.

With a slow breath, he walked back inside and closed the door behind him. He made his way down the hall back toward the living room. As he turned down the hall that led back to the bathroom, a door clicking open made him glance up. "Did Belle leave?" Minho's voice asked, a moment before he appeared from the bathroom. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet from his shower.

"Yeah, she left," Newt sighed. Great. Minho was done in the shower, which meant Newt couldn't join him. Why was this day not going well for him? Folding his arms over his chest, he watched as Minho ran a hand over his shower-tousled hair. A smile threatened his lips. "I heard you singing."

Glancing up, Minho turned a cute shade of pink. "Oh. Yeah. That song always reminds me of you."

"Really?" Newt asked in delight.

"It's on my Newt playlist," Minho replied with a shrug.

A bubble of laughter skipped out of Newt then and he hopped a few steps closer to Minho. "You have a playlist for me?" His hands were laced coyly behind his back.

Minho watched him with a soft admiration in his gaze. "Yeah, I know, I'm a corny moron," he said sarcastically.

"But you're my corny moron," Newt cooed, reaching for Minho's waist and shivering when his fingers met the bare skin, warmed from his shower. Minho sighed as he let the blonde pull him close and set his hands at the back of Newt's neck. "I wish you waited to get into the shower," Newt remarked.

"Why?" Minho asked, rubbing circles into the back of Newt's shoulders with his fingers.

Newt dropped his forehead into Minho's chest, purring as Minho massaged his shoulders. "I could've gotten in with you," he murmured, trailing his index finger up over the muscle in Minho's back.

A long sigh slid out of Minho. "We can take one together later," he mumbled, running his thumbs under Newt's neckline to feel his collarbone. "Tonight... I'll get...candles..." His voice faltered, because Newt had reached up to card his fingers through Minho's hair and then dropped to trace his strong shoulders. He cleared his throat. "...and turn on...music and we...um, we can..."

"We can what?" Newt asked, fingers feeling Minho's biceps admiringly before circling to press into his shoulder blades.

"We can do whatever...you want," Minho stammered. His forehead drooped down onto Newt's, a low breath leaving him.

Newt closed his eyes, their noses brushing together. He could feel Minho's warmth and the toned strength of his body so tantalizingly close. Minho nipped his lower lip lightly, making Newt release a soft sound. He ran his fingers down Minho's back, reveling in the lingering water droplets slipping under his skin. His hands slid lower over Minho's towel, cupping his backside suggestively. A little moan came from Minho's throat.

"I want you," Newt whispered.

Minho whimpered at the words. "I have a guitar lesson in half an hour."

"Then we have some time." Newt kissed Minho's mouth once, running his tongue along his lips. After Minho's whine, he pulled back, breathing hard. "Please," he breathed out.

"I dunno," Minho managed, practically gasping for air as Newt pushed him back into the wall. "What if—God." He stuttered to a halt when Newt ran hot kisses down his chest, then his stomach, licking water drops from his abs. His fingers threaded through Newt's hair.

"Just let me..." Newt didn't finish, but it was obvious what he had planned; kneeling in front of Minho and running his fingertips along the lines in Minho's hips.

Minho couldn't even look at Newt anymore. The sight of his beautiful husband on his knees for him was enough for his legs to feel like jelly. "Newt, I don't think...Newt—!" It was embarrassing, the way he groaned out the name, but he couldn't help it. Newt was kissing his hip and sliding a hand up Minho's thigh under his towel.

"I take it back," Newt murmured, toying with the edge of Minho's towel. "I'm gonna make you late."

He did. Minho showed up at work fifteen minutes late, thoroughly ruffled, and with many hurried excuses.


	28. Chapter 28

-Ugh. So this started out good, but I feel like the ending was rushed. But that's okay, cuz OMG, it's almost over! Day 27, people! :D. Thank you all for the wonderful support. I'm sorry for the delay in updates; there's been so much going on lately in my life, haha. But I'm still alive and writing (officially on page 47 of my own novel. Yay!) So, once again, enjoy the story!-

DAY 27: Spend a day giving back to the community together-

When Newt heard about the charity event going on in Glade Park, he was sure Minho was going to go. They needed musicians, after all. And of course Newt was going to go with him.

-X-X-X-

Sunlight filtered between tall oak trees in Glade Park and caught in Annabelle's red hair. It waved behind her as she ran at the head of a pack of kids, cheering brightly. She kept running, weaving between people gathered at picnic tables full of food and making a few of them blink in surprise. She didn't stop until she reached someone's legs and took ahold of their knees. "Teresa, Teresa!" she cheered, bouncing up and down. "Pick me up!"

Newt, standing next to his friend, Teresa at a picnic table, smiled as she bent down to scoop Belle up into her arms. "There!" Teresa declared, beaming at a happy Belle. "How's that? Now you can see your dad on the stage." She pointed over at the makeshift stage (which was actually a raised platform on the ground), where Minho was sitting next to his boss, Miranda with a guitar in both their hands.

"Yeah!" Belle twisted to watch and Teresa switched her position a little so that Belle could see better.

Newt watched as Teresa struggled to blow a strand of black hair out of her face, as she couldn't use her hands now. "You don't have to hold her, Teresa," he said guiltily. "I can take her, if you want."

"Oh, no way," Teresa replied. "I'm not giving her up that easily." She tickled Belle's side playfully, making the little girl giggle.

Newt's heart felt warm in his chest. "Whatever you say," he laughed, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Belle's ear.

The three of them looked on as Miranda said something to Minho onstage, pushing her honey-colored hair back. Minho smiled and nodded, and the two began strumming on their guitars. The chords were beautiful, winding into the air and making people stop to listen. Newt smiled as the two started singing You'll Be in My Heart, Miranda's light voice complimenting Minho's smooth one perfectly. Though he felt a bit guilty, as he wasn't exactly paying full attention to the music. He was admiring his husband's powerful shoulders in his charcoal T-shirt and the way the sun danced in his dark hair. A little into the chorus, Minho caught him looking. A smirk tipped up one side of his mouth and he winked. Blushing, Newt looked down, biting his lip.

"You guys are too cute." Teresa's voice made him glance up. Belle had apparently run off again, because it was just Teresa now, smoothing down her blue top. "Seriously. I used to be jealous of you two."

"Used to be?" Newt asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I do have a boyfriend now, remember?" Triumphant, she pointed over at a few people gathered by a thick tree. Two were Harriet and Jorge, tattoo artists at Dragonfire Tattoos, where Newt and Minho had had theirs done. The third artist was Aris, his short black hair spiked and his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced over at Teresa once and gave a shy smile.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about Aris," Newt joked. Teresa punched him in the arm and he laughed. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I'm glad you finally found someone like him." Teresa had had trouble with an awful boyfriend in the past and Newt was happy to see that she'd chosen Aris now. He was a good person and Newt wasn't going to lie; the guy was charmingly cute.

But he's no Minho, Newt thought. Aris was nice to look at, but Minho would always be first in Newt's heart. (Besides, while Aris was cute, Minho was unbearably hot.)

Teresa beamed at him. "Thanks, Newt," she replied warmly. "I don't know if I ever thanked you for letting me crash that party with Minho. Remember that? Back when Nathan cheated on me?"

Newt snickered, because he remembered Minho's complaints of dressing up for that expensive business party. "I remember. That was hilarious."

"You should've been there when Minho almost decked him," Teresa giggled. "I have to say I've never had a date that tried to beat up another guy for me."

Newt nodded, but before he could say anything, Aris wandered up to the pair. His brown eyes flicked to Newt once, but they were mostly fixed on his girlfriend. "Hey, Newt," he said with a half-smile. His head bobbed toward the stage yards away. "Minho sounds awesome. I can't sing to save my life."

"He tries, but he's not as good as me," Newt replied sarcastically, stretching his arms, the edge of his blue-striped tee inching up a bit.

"Liar," Teresa accused, and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Are you calling me a bad singer?"

"Yes. Because you are."

"Hey, c'mon," Aris cut in, reaching out to snag Teresa by the waist. "Behave." Reeling her in, he touched a kiss to her nose. It was ridiculously adorable how he grinned at her delighted squeak and her fingers curled in his grey T-shirt.

"I behave when I want to," she murmured teasingly, pecking his mouth once. Aris turned pink and his fingertips inched under her top to smooth over her sides.

Newt cleared his throat pointedly. "I'm still here," he told them. "I can see you. PDA."

Stepping back a bit, Aris had the decency to look chagrined. But Teresa just slipped an arm around his waist and stuck her fingers in his belt loop. "Like YOU never show any PDA?" she asked in accusation.

Newt lifted his chin. "No. I never do." His argument lasted for about two minutes. Then someone's arms looped around his waist, making him yelp before he recognized Minho's laugh in his ear. He must've snuck over after the song ended and Newt hadn't noticed.

"Hey, angel," Minho murmured, chest against Newt's back and fingers linked over his stomach. Nuzzling Newt's hair, he hummed before kissing his ear. "What're you talking about?"

Newt sighed as Teresa sent him a meaningful look. The one time he didn't want Minho to come over here. "This is not PDA," he told her, pointing for emphasis. "This is just..."

"PDA? Why're you talking about PDA?" Minho glanced between the two in confusion. He refused to take his arms from around Newt (not that Newt was really complaining).

"Never mind," Newt said in defeat. "Just know that you're ruining my argument here."

"Yes, you are, Min," Teresa agreed. Grinning triumphantly, she leaned into Aris and made him blush a bit. "You're a great husband."

Minho ignored the teasing and just hugged Newt tighter. He placed a kiss on the blonde's neck. "I know I am. Right, baby?"

"Meh," was Newt's reply, and Teresa and Aris snickered to themselves. Minho just chuckled, a soft vibration against Newt's back. Newt found himself relaxing against him, slipping his hands over Minho's on his waist. A smile tilted his lips. Maybe PDA wasn't THAT bad...


	29. Chapter 29

-Agh, we are getting so close to the end of this! XD I'm excited, guys, cuz even though 30 Shades is ending, there are more stories I can't wait to share with you. Some of these chapters may be shorter and not as well-written, mainly because my focus is on other writing. For that, I apologize, but I plan on ending this on a good note.

Also, I want to thank all of my readers for leaving such beautiful reviews on my stories. They mean more to me than I can ever say. If my book (currently unfinished lol) is ever on the way to being published, I promise you will be first to know.

Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy the story :)-

-DAY 28: Give each other massages-

Newt had already given Minho plenty of massages, after a hard day at work or a run. So he thought that he deserved this.

-X-X-X-

"Minhooooo... Minho, where are you?"

Newt dragged his socked feet over the floor as he trudged down the hall toward the kitchen. Hunched over in a baggy sweater, he felt thoroughly horrible. He'd spent too much time playing with Belle to tire her out and now that she was finally asleep, he could have a break. Thank god, because he'd done something to his back. It felt awful; it ached terribly and multiple muscles were tight and strained. He needed some help.

"Minhooo," he whined again, approaching the doorway to the kitchen. "What're you doinnnng?" Then he blinked when Minho appeared in the door, hastily running a hand over his spiky hair. He wore gym shorts with a pale blue T-shirt, and held a wooden spoon in one hand.

"Cooking," Minho answered at last, running his eyes over Newt's slumped form in sweatpants before him. He sounded preoccupied, as though he needed to get back to making dinner instead of talking to Newt at the moment. "What's up?"

Guilty because he'd interrupted something, Newt tugged at his sleeves. "I think I messed up my back," he admitted. "I—I was wondering if... But I know you're busy now, so you don't have to..."

"You want a massage?" Minho asked, as though this was obvious.

Newt nodded once. "But you really don't have to, if you're busy, or—"

He was cut off by Minho leaning in and pressing their lips together. A delighted hum left Newt's throat as Minho pressed a hand to the small of his back. It ended much too fast, leaving him aching for more. When he whimpered in disappointment and leaned toward Minho again, Minho laughed; their foreheads touched together, holding him back. "I'll give you one after I'm done," Minho promised, still grinning widely. "Okay?"

"No," Newt answered, shaking his head. "I won't survive until then unless you kiss me again."

"Newt, I have to get back— Newt," Minho laughed breathlessly as Newt pecked his lips once, then twice, tracing his jaw with a fingertip. Taking Newt's wrists, he pulled them away and held them to his chest instead. "I need to go, angel. I'll give you a massage later, I promise."

"I thought I was more important than dinner," Newt pouted, stepping forward until their bodies were flush against each other from head to toe.

"Trust me, Newt," Minho murmured, "it's taking a lot right now for me to let you go, instead of doing everything I wanna do to you right now."

Newt only wanted him more. There was still the memory of Minho's palm on his lower back and he desperately wanted it in other places, all over, just Minho. But he sighed in resignation and stepped back. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll wait for my massage. I guess. But don't expect any kind of...reward, afterward. You made me wait so you get nothing."

Minho splayed a hand over his heart in a who-me? gesture. "Sweetheart," he purred innocently, "by the time I'm done, you'll be begging to give me a reward."

"Go make dinner."

"What kind of reward were you thinking of, anyway?"

"Is something burning? I think you need to leave now."

"Not 'til I get a goodbye 'reward.'" Smiling teasingly, Minho held his hands behind his back and waited.

Newt rolled his eyes, but came closer to drop a brief kiss on Minho's mouth. Feeling sneaky, he slipped a hand under Minho's shirt and slid it over his hard stomach. The hitched breath he heard made him smirk as he pulled back. "I'll see you after dinner, Min," he said softly, and Minho could only stare back in a daze.

It would certainly be an interesting night.

-X-X-X-

"All right, Belle's sleeping and the dishes are done. Are you giving me a massage anytime soon?"

Newt was lying flat on his stomach in bed, atop the fluffy covers. He was waiting impatiently for Minho to just get in here already. Sitting through dinner with his back aching had been torture. He'd been looking forward to this literally all night. Propping his chin on his folded arms, he watched the closed door to their bedroom. It seemed to take a year for the doorknob to turn. "Okay, okay, I'm here," Minho said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He shook his head at Newt's stretched-out form. "How long have you been waiting?"

"It feels like a bloody hour."

"You already got your shirt off too, shank."

"Get over here."

Chuckling, Minho obeyed, approaching the bedside and pausing beside Newt. A sigh trickled out of the blonde when Minho rubbed a hand down his back once. The sigh morphed into a squeak when Minho kept going until he tickled the back of his leg. "Min—Wait, where are you going?" he stammered, as Minho started toward the other side of the room.

"Calm down," Minho replied, pulling open the drawer of their dresser. "I'm just gonna change first."

Newt stuck his chin up on his hand in indignation. "What d'you mean, get changed? You wear underwear to bed half the time, shuckface."

"Not ALL the time, though," Minho pointed out. He chose a black pair of pajama bottoms and shut the drawer again. Then, rolling his eyes at Newt, he stripped out of his shirt. Newt found himself watching the bend of muscle in Minho's body as he tossed his shirt into the hamper by the wall, and then the smooth length of his legs when he took off his shorts next. Blushing a bit, Newt glanced away again and Minho stepped into his pajama bottoms.

"Ughh," Newt groaned, flopping his head down on the mattress. "You're taking too lonnng."

"You're just impatient." Leaning on the bed, Minho pressed his lips once to Newt's hair. There was a sound of appreciation from the blonde, but nothing else. Minho grinned in amusement at Newt's unmoving form. Lazy little shank.

Newt felt the mattress dip beneath him as Minho climbed onto it. Then he gave a tiny gasp when Minho straddled his hips. He hadn't expected it to feel quite so intimate. He thought about teasing Minho a little, but then Minho's hands were on his back and he became a puddle on the bed.

"Ohhh..." Newt couldn't stifle the moan that drifted out of him as Minho's palms rubbed into the tight muscles beneath his shoulder blades.

A bubble of laughter came from Minho. "No more complaining now?" he asked airily.

"Whatever," Newt mumbled. His cheek was pillowed on his arms and his eyelids drooped shut. He couldn't remember the last time Minho have given him a massage. It was heaven. Minho knew every place to add pressure, digging his thumbs into the small of Newt's back and working his way up. Little tingles spidered under Newt's skin at the contact and it felt like warmth was pooling inside of him.

"Min," Newt sighed, as Minho's fingers found a knot by his right shoulder. "I think I love you."

"Well, I hope so," Minho joked. "Otherwise, what did I marry you for?"

Newt's voice was muffled in the mattress: "my good looks, duh."

"Can't argue with that." Minho's fingertips circled into Newt's back again, but the pressure changed as he bent forward; soft, he placed a kiss on the back of Newt's neck.

A smile tugged at the corner of Newt's mouth. "Now I know why you love it so much when I give you massages," he commented.

"Yeah, except you don't do this." With that, Minho dug tickling fingers into Newt's sides.

"Ah—! Minho!" Bursting into laughter, Newt squirmed, trapped under Minho. Minho's tickling only grew worse and Newt's sides ached. He giggled breathlessly as he twisted around beneath Minho, until he was on his back. "Cut it out!" he gasped, shoving at Minho's hands. "This wasn't part of the deal!"

"You should know that I never stick to any deals we make!" Minho snickered.

"Well, you SHOULD, you shank!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Finally, the tickling stopped. Still straddling Newt's hips, Minho grinned down at the blonde as he laid back against the mattress in relief. Newt flopped a hand across his stomach. "Ugh...Thank God..." Then he shot a glare up at his husband. "You suck."

"Hey, I gave you a massage," Minho reminded him. "You should thank me."

"Whatever." But Newt couldn't stop his smile. Especially when Minho bent down to kiss him once more.

Maybe he was luckier than he'd thought.


	30. Chapter 30

-This is the second-to-the-last chapter! I can't believe that this is so close to being over, guys! You are all such amazing readers and I can't wait to write the ending of this for you. I'm gonna try to make it a longer chapter cuz these two adorable shanks deserve it XD Reviews have all been lovely and I hope you'll tell me if you liked this one too :)-

-DAY 29: Rearrange a room in your house-

(The rest of this challenge was so long, I just wrote this. You get the point -_-)

Belle wanted to help, she really did, but she was just too little. She still protested that she should be a part of rearranging her own room, though.

-X-X-X-

"Oh my God."

"It's not THAT heavy."

"Can't you do this yourself?"

"If I could do this myself, you wouldn't be here."

"Ugh." With a last groan of pain, Newt let his corner of Belle's bed drop onto the floor with a thud. It had been moved from its place by the door and was now up against the wall beneath her window. She'd been wanting her room changed around for some time now, so he and Minho had taken today to do that for her. He was beginning to regret it, now that his arms were aching. Lifting his arms up over his head, he stretched. "I think we should take a break," he announced, "before I die."

Minho blew out a hard sigh from the other side of the bed, bracing his hands on its headboard and leaning against it. "You're a real wimp, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know," Newt replied, rolling his eyes. "And I accept it. I'm sitting." Without waiting for a reply, he sat himself down on the floor in front of Belle's bed and leaned back against it. A long exhale left him. It felt good to be done moving dressers and beds around.

"Well, I'm sitting if you're sitting." Minho took the place beside Newt, tipping his head back against Belle's bed. He closed his eyes. "Lazy shank," he added, mouth tilting up at the corner.

Tired, Newt's response was a halfhearted mumble. Both wore tank tops and shorts during the work and their shoulders brushed as they sat together. Newt felt the tiniest shiver at the touch of skin. He risked a sideways glance at Minho. His hair was adorably messy and Newt bit his lip in delight. He didn't love any of the work, but he did love how ruffled Minho looked afterward. Affection bloomed unexpectedly inside of him and he shifted so that their legs were touching too. "Thanks for the help."

"Of course." Smiling, Minho leaned over and placed a kiss on Newt's cheek.

Newt melted at the gesture. He felt suddenly giddy, as the thought settled in: he'd just finished fixing up his daughter's room and his husband was sitting beside him. He could've died happy right then.

Beside him, Minho took a breath to speak. "You want something to drink? I think we have—"

Newt grabbed the neckline of his tank top and dragged him into a kiss. He heard Minho's surprised noise and grinned against his lips. Then one of Minho's hands was cupping his face, head tilting as he kissed back. A sigh ran out of Newt, the sweet taste of Minho on his tongue and a warmth building somewhere inside. He let Minho part his lips, let it deepen, and heard Minho moan softly. Minho's hand fell to rest on his thigh, curling in the fabric of his shorts. A thrum of heat traveled the whole way up Newt's body. "Min," he whispered into the kiss.

At the sound of his voice, Minho slipped just his fingertips beneath the hem of Newt's shorts; his palm grazed bare skin as he slid his fingers down to trace the years-old scar on the back of Newt's knee. A smile worked itself onto Newt's lips. He caught Minho's bottom lip in his teeth just before pulling away, eliciting the smallest whimper from Minho. Noses brushing and breaths shaky, Newt ran his index finger along the line of Minho's jaw. "Yeah," he murmured.

"Yeah, what?" Minho asked, words bumping into each other dazedly.

"Yeah, I want a drink," Newt replied with a light laugh.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay."

"I also want a shower."

"Mmhm."

Smirking, Newt bent and placed his lips at Minho's ear. "Want to join me?" he asked in a whisper, hand settling itself on Minho's stomach.

"Yes," was sighed into his hair and his smirk widened.

Yes, he liked the parts AFTER the work much better.


	31. Chapter 31

-It's done! This is the last chapter of 30 Shades. I'm so happy with this and you guys have been the best readers I could ever ask for. I hope you like this last chapter and I look forward to writing more for you in the future. Until next time! :)-

-DAY 30: Turn on some slow music, and dance-

"Ohh, my love,

my darling,

I've hungered for your touch, alone

Lonely time...

And time goes by so slowly,

And time can do so much...

Are you still mine?"

–Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers.

-X-X-X-

It was a very quiet, very lonely night. Spring was on its way, but winter refused to leave quite yet; frost dappled the ground outside in silver glitter and the branches of the trees rattled in a chilly wind. But the inside of the house was warm and there was a pleasant glow from the TV screen, playing across the white of the couch cushions and carpet. Somewhere in a blue-walled bedroom, a girl giggled at a calico cat, her hair matching the fire-red splotches on its fur. They curled together atop her bed, two conspirators in the lamplight.

In the kitchen, Minho opened the fridge and searched inside for a moment. The quiet was disrupted by his voice calling cheekily into the living room: "wine?"

"No," came Newt's wry answer.

Minho pouted, though Newt couldn't see him. "You're no fun."

"And you're not getting me drunk."

"That's what you think," Minho muttered to himself slyly. Stretching over to a cabinet, he chose two glasses, both with elegant stems.

When he wandered back into the living room, Newt took one look at what he was holding. "Minho, you suck," he stated matter-of-factly. He shifted as the couch moved with Minho's weight.

"I know," Minho chirped. "Here." He held out a glass invitingly.

Sighing, Newt accepted it and took a sip. He sank back against the couch, long legs stretched out, in dark clingy denim. Minho's smile was triumphant as he idly tasted his own drink. He hadn't had wine in a while. It was both bitter and sweet on his tongue. He blinked when Newt took his free hand and lifted it; the blonde ducked under Minho's arm and slung it around his shoulders. Minho's smile broadened when Newt tucked himself up against his side. Newt noticed and sent him a questioning glance. "What?"

"I like you," Minho told him jokingly.

The side of Newt's mouth quirked up. "Really? I never would've guessed."

"Shuckface." Pressing a kiss to the top of Newt's head, Minho skimmed his hand up and down the blonde's arm. The fabric of Newt's red-and-black striped shirt was soft and it smelled like him, like something entirely too sweet. Minho felt his body relax just by breathing it in.

On the TV screen, there was some movie trailer playing. It looked like a romantic comedy, judging by the two characters staring dreamily at each other. Minho recognized the song playing in the background as All Of Me, by John Legend. An idea hit him and he poked Newt in the shoulder. "Hey."

Newt glanced up at him, a questioning look in his eyes as his lips touched the rim of his glass again. The look on his face was begging for a kiss and Minho had to hold back that thought. "What?" he asked after swallowing.

"You wanna dance?"

"Dance?"

"Well, yeah. I have some music."

"...this is very random of you."

There was obvious suspicion in his voice and Minho gave a sarcastic eye-roll. "Why do you always think I have alternate reasons for doing things with you?"

"Because the last time we danced somewhere, we ended up having sex in a hotel room," Newt replied, deadpan.

Well, he did have a good point. Not that sex was what Minho was after, of course. (He certainly wouldn't complain if it went that way, though) "Yeah, well, there's no hotel room here, so you don't have to worry about that," he replied, and Newt snorted. Minho stretched forward to place his glass on the coffee table and pushed up off the couch. He could feel Newt's eyes on his back as he clicked the remote to turn off the TV and searched on a nearby table for the remote for the speaker system in the corner. Once he found it, he didn't even wait to see what song would play. He'd been listening to it a few days ago, so he knew exactly which one it was. He pushed the button. A rich voice slid from the speakers into the room:

"Ohh, my love, my darling... I've hungered for your touch... Alone... Lonely time..."

Hopelessly romantic as he was, Minho was addicted to this song. He smiled at Newt over his shoulder. "You gonna get over here, or what?"

"I don't suppose I have a choice now," Newt replied, but there was a glimmer in his blue eyes. A clink came from his glass being set on the table beside Minho's and a little soft sound came from him tugging the hem of his shirt down when he stood up. Minho had time to notice all of this, and to notice the softening in Newt's gaze, before the blonde reached him. "I'll be the girl," Newt said sarcastically, resting his hands on Minho's shoulders. "But only because you're taller."

"I'll be the guy then," Minho decided, "because you're short." He received a punch in the arm in reply. Laughing, he set his hands at Newt's waist and pulled him in closer. That wonderful sugary smell of his cologne hit Minho's senses and made him slightly dizzy. He fought the urge to sigh when Newt's fingertips slid along the nape of his neck.

"And time can do so much...are you...still mine?"

As if by some unspoken message, the two began to dance. It was slow and smooth, and showed every time they'd ever danced before. They moved in a circle around the living room floor, socked feet padding across the carpet. The music felt as though it was sinking into Minho's bones, making him drowsy and drunk. Newt's hands roamed from his neck to his shoulders, warm through the fabric of his black T-shirt. He bit down a sigh when Newt massaged his shoulders.

"You're still quite the dancer," Newt remarked in half-amusement, half-warmth.

"So are you," Minho replied with the curve of a grin. He pulled Newt in by the waist until their bodies touched. His breath caught when Newt practically melted into him, pressing himself up against Minho and resting his head on his shoulder. His fair hair brushed Minho's neck and one of his hands slipped down to stay on Minho's chest. Minho rested his cheek against Newt's head and closed his eyes. "Angel," he murmured, not needing to say anything else.

The softest of sighs tickled his neck and Newt's hand moved again, from his chest to his stomach, and then his hip. It stayed there, in that perfect too-low place with his fingers grazing the side of Minho's thigh and his thumb hooked in his belt loop. Minho couldn't comprehend how the simplest of touches could make his heart feel like it was in overdrive. "Newt," he mumbled.

"What?" Newt breathed it against his skin and his lips brushed Minho's neck as he did it, and it took everything Minho had to stay sane.

He asked it, because it was one those nights when he felt vulnerable, terribly, wonderfully vulnerable, and he wanted to hear Newt say it. "Can I kiss you?"

A light chuckle, a pause in their steps, and Newt's azure eyes rising to meet his own. He kept that hand at Minho's hip, but now his thumb snuck beneath the hem of his shirt to trace the skin there. "Anytime you want," he answered.

Minho's lips quirked at the corner, but there was nothing but seriousness in how he leaned their foreheads together. His hands were insistent on the small of Newt's back, bunching in his shirt. He heard Newt's soft, "Minho," and watched the way his lips moved to shape the name. Impulsive, he reached up to cup Newt's jaw and stroked his thumb down Newt's bottom lip. The tiny gasp Newt let out made him tremble. He didn't say a word as he leaned in, because he wanted to see the way Newt's eyelids slid down and his breath hitched.

"Daddy! Dad! Look at this!"

It was not exactly a welcome distraction at the moment.

Minho pulled back before their lips ever met, biting his lower lip. The flash of disappointment in Newt's gaze almost made it bearable. The blonde cleared his throat in embarrassment and moved his hand to a chaste spot on Minho's side. "Dammit," Minho muttered. Then he peered over Newt's shoulder at Belle. "What is it, honey?"

The Newton's adoptive daughter toed the floor in a bashful manner, green eyes darting to her fathers' faces. "I did a makeover for Coal!" she announced, red tutu flapping as she jumped up eagerly. "Look!"

Newt gave her a smile. "That's great, Anna—Oh." Then he stared when she lifted up a very irritated Coal with a multitude of blue bows tied along her tail. There was one sitting atop her head and she twitched her whiskers up at him as though to say, get me out of this, now.

"Wow." Minho raised his eyebrows. "She looks great. I bet she loves it."

"Doesn't look like she loves it," Newt muttered to him.

"She knew what she was getting into when we adopted."

"Minho, she's a cat."

Minho had no argument to that. Unchained Melody still crooned, "are you still mine?" in the background and he remembered what they'd been doing before Belle ran in. "You did an awesome job, Belle," he told her and she giggled happily. "But Coal has to go to bed soon and I don't think she can sleep with those bows in, so..."

"Oh yeah!" Belle exclaimed. "Okay, no problem, Dad!" Scooping Coal up to her chest, she kissed the top of her head. "C'mon, Coal. I'll help you get de-makeovered." With that, she scampered off, trailing meows and laughter behind her.

An adorably childish snicker came from Newt. "De-makeovered," he snorted, like it was the funniest thing in the world. Then he glanced up and part of his grin vanished when he saw Minho's serious expression. "What?"

Minho shook his head wonderingly. "I love you," he whispered, before tangling his fingers in Newt's hair and pulling their mouths together.

A little noise of surprise came from Newt as he stiffened. But he was over it in a moment. He grabbed Minho by the back of the neck and God, his tongue was on Minho's now and their hips were melting together. Minho dropped his hands to the back of Newt's shirt, crinkling the fabric up. His palms found the bared skin of Newt's lower back and stroked over it, reveling in the smooth softness. Something like a whimper left Newt's mouth, trapped between them. It sounded like a desperate, "Min." Minho would've given anything to hear that again.

They were needy, they were all over each other. Newt's kisses stopped being slow and turned into gasping want. Minho kneaded his fingers into Newt's back beneath his shirt and slipped a hand down Newt's hip; curling his fingers around the back of Newt's thigh, he hooked the blonde's leg around his. He wanted to be closer. They were pressed together, from head to toe, but he still wanted to be closer. He bit down on Newt's bottom lip. And oh, Newt's fingers raked through his hair, curling around the strands and pulling just right, and Minho was moaning before he could stop it.

Newt broke away when he heard it, delight on his face and his breaths shallow. "You haven't kissed me like that since forever ago," he breathed out, words stumbling over each other.

"I figured it'd been too long," Minho joked, though he couldn't hide the catch in his voice. He bent his head, nudging Newt's head aside, and nuzzled into his neck. He was content to just brush a kiss there and rest his forehead on Newt's shoulder.

Newt's body relaxed against his, hand stroking down the length of Minho's back. His lips touched Minho's ear. "This is a good song," he remarked in a whisper.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Silence, besides the music sinking into the room around them. Minho closed his eyes and imagined that he was back at their wedding, taking Newt across the dance floor. He sighed. "I need you."

It wasn't meant in any other way besides that, a simple true meaning. Newt knew that and though Minho didn't know how he knew it, he did. Newt kissed his husband's neck and murmured, "I need you too."

There wasn't anything else they needed to say. Everything had already been said. Except—

"And yes," Newt whispered as the music faded, "I'm still yours."


End file.
